


The Curse of Anubis Raid

by animefreak



Category: LOVECRAFT H. P. - Works, The Mummy (1999), The Rat Patrol
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:22:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 53
Words: 34,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3400079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animefreak/pseuds/animefreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the desert, something out of the ordinary for the Patrol is happening. An archaeologist out of time and Ardeth Bey become involved as Hauptmann Dietrich is sent to Ahm Shere in search of a relic. The oasis has been gone for several years, but the power of the place remains for someone else to try to use. The Patrol, the Germans and a surprising return are needed to solve the situation before the war becomes the least of their problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cheri

"This is not one of my days, just not one of my freakin' days," I grumbled under my breath as I rolled away from a horse's prancing feet. Looking up I saw a dappled gray horse with distinctively Arabian accouterments just before a robed and veiled desert dweller type who was guarding them spotted me. The language was one I spoke, but as he yelled to his companions, it sounded off somehow.

Scrambling to my feet, I dove at the yelling tribesmen, snorting my distaste for their unwashed stink, I took the first one down, relieving him of sword and knife as he stumbled into the ground. Since he wouldn't shut up and most of what he was yelling was foul, I used the knife to silence him. This left half a dozen swarthy, shifty eyed types pulling weapons to deal with and I didn't even know what I'd done to annoy them in the first place. Given the threats they were making, I wasn't certain I wanted an answer to that. Dead men tell no tales. Makes it hard to get information, but they weren't going to talk to me anyway.

I hate fighting in sand. Sand and blood is even worse. My opponents were not up to my standards and fell to my skills with relative ease. I dropped the blades and did a quick recon of the area. Horses, which I already knew. Jeeps. Jeeps? 1940's style Willys Jeeps with large caliber guns mounted on the backs and painted sand colored. Two of them. This did not bode well. I checked the bodies I'd left. Not a driver's license in the lot. No real ID papers at all. The guns were ancient. Come to think of it, the ones mounted on the vehicles were old. Very old. Very 1940's old.

I took a deep breath and tried to think. Saharan heat and a hangover were not allowing a lot of coherent thought. The next best thing was to go find the bodies that belonged to the Jeeps. Suiting action to thought, I did so. Five of the six tents in the camp were empty of people. The sixth and largest held … Oh, look, they're not bodies.

Four men in variations of WWII military gear were bound to the supporting tent poles. They looked like they were wisely catching 40 winks before dealing with their captors. The one with surfer blond hair had a broken arm. Not good with the nearest doctor who knew how far away; I hadn't seen anything looking like a medical tent in the camp. With caution, I slid into the tent and took a look at the items on the low table across the multiple layered carpets from quartet of captives. The guns were still vintage, as was the combat knife.

Expletives-in-several-languages-deleted. Damn.

Logical decision: time to wake sleeping beauty and see what was what. With that laudable intention, I turned and reacted to the menacing figure approaching me. No, I did not make sure they were still secured; which led to a short scuffle with the apparent leader of the pack. Good thing he had not yet freed his men. I ended up seated on the small of his back, trapping one of his hands against his side with my thighs.

"OK. Ride'em, cowboy was not my intent when I walked in here. You wanta stop bucking?" He did, becoming disturbingly still under me. Time to talk and talk fast, only I hadn't a clue what to say since I was still dealing with the whole 1940's motif and realizing it wasn't - a motif. "I'm gonna shift off. I'd really appreciate not getting hit, stabbed or shot immediately thereafter, okay?" A sort of clenched nod was the answer. I suspected that my variant of American English was throwing him a curve ball.

I shifted off and scooted back a few feet as he rolled over and into a seated position to stare at me. He had dark eyes. Piercing dark eyes. I hate piercing dark eyes, especially when they're regarding me with a combination of confusion and suspicion.

"Who're you?" he asked. Nice voice. Crisp, commanding, clear. Went well with the kind of ruggedly good looking face that I could now see since his hat fell off in our tussle. American accent rather than Aussie.

"Yuconovich. Cheri Yuconovich." Why lie? He didn't know me from Eve.

"Ruskie?" a light tenor voice, also in the American vernacular, asked. Pale eyes behind wire-rimmed rounds of glass gave me a searching look.

"Russian and French heritage. Amazing what Ellis Island can do to mangle a foreign language that isn't Irish or Scots," I answered with a laugh.

"Where?" The one in front of me asked.

I surmised he meant 'where did I come from' rather than 'where are we' and disseminated information accordingly. "Illinois. Small farm. Dad was Russian, Maman French. I grew up speaking both in addition to English. Makes me a polyglot." So, why should I mention the other 13 languages, not counting the dialects, I spoke? A woman should always retain some mystery. Or so they keep telling me. "Maybe you should cut the others loose. Especially him," I nodded to the man with the broken bone. "That cannot be good for him."

With martial grace, the man I'd fought got to his feet and released his men, never quite taking his eyes off me. The Brit moved to the wounded soldier and confirmed the break. Efficiently he straightened and set the arm, his patient smothering a scream behind his teeth. The man's lived in looking face broke into a sweat, but he retained consciousness and his lunch, assuming he'd had any of the latter.

"And you are?" I asked, remaining seated on the sand. Six untrained Arabs with blades were one thing; four Allied military men were another, even if one had a busted wing.

"Sgt. Troy, Sgt. Moffitt, Pvt. Hitchcock, Pvt. Pettigrew. What are you doing out here?" Sgt. Troy was taking in my anachronistic garb. T-shirt, vest, jeans and moccasin boots are not that odd in the desert, in New Mexico or Arizona. In the Sahara in the early part of the desert war, I was so out of place.

"Sitting on my ass answering questions, apparently." Insouciant to the end, that's me. No, I wasn't winning friends and influencing people, as the spiel goes, but there wasn't much of an answer I could give him since I not only didn't know how I'd arrived (although I had a suspicion my local friendly mad scientist might just have had something to do with it) and I wasn't exactly doing much of anything since I'd only been there on the order of what? 20 minutes? I ignored having slaughtered a number of Arab citizens. Hey, they started it!

The Brit glared at me. The surfer grinned. Seriously too young to be that grim with the glasses looked me over curiously. Sgt. Troy squatted down to stare into my eyes. Green is not a color you see that often in the desert. Bright, insane green is generally not something you see outside of movies, anime and CGI enhanced characters on the big screen. I could almost see the thoughts chasing around in his head. I had to be a trap of some sort, but he could not see it right now so he wouldn't immediately act on it.

"You're coming with us."

Given that the dead bodies outside were probably altering time lines as we spoke, I declined to argue. So far, I hadn't eliminated myself by any of my actions. Oh, yeah. The last time I looked at a calendar, it was 2008AD. Incredible-numbers-of-expletives-in-a-dozen–languages deleted.

The bodies surprised them. I'd been fairly quiet in my decimation of the Arab guard. Looking around, I began to wonder where everyone else was. As noted before, there were several tents, a couple of covered trucks and a dozen horses but not another sign of a human besides the men I was with and the ones that lay dead near where the horses were tethered.

The Sgt. leading the allied group looked to be echoing my thoughts. "You killed them?" He pointed to the dead. I nodded. No point in lying. "Where's everyone else?" he asked, not quite pointedly from me, but close.

"Uhm… How many everyone else's are we talking about?" I asked, since the only people I'd seen so far had attacked me or been rescued by me.

The Brit, Moffitt, answered. "At least a dozen more men."

A breeze blew past with a spattering of sand. Odd. I looked down at my feet and then at the larger area covered with tents. Ten feet away, a short wall stuck up out of the sand. It was weathered and ancient looking. Closer inspection showed that it was really ancient mud brick much worn by sand storms and the hands of men. The wall stretched away until it disappeared beneath the surface about two hundred feet away.

"Walls." I was trying desperately to think why the area looked familiar. Sandstone cliffs rose to the north of us while the desert lay undulating to the east and south. There was something … Ignoring the men, I walked a short grid over the sand, searching for some hint of what lay below. Sand scrunched oddly beneath my feet, instead of just that funny sort of sighing noise it normally makes.

In a couple of minutes I dug a hole in the sand with my hands to reveal stone, some sort of pedestal turned on its side from the look of it. Feet carved in the style of the 19th Dynasty topped the pedestal. Black stone feet attached to ankles and what looked like unbroken calves above that. Given the scale of the feet, I walked out from the pedestal to where I thought the head of the statue must lie.

The four men must have thought I was out of my mind, although Moffitt looked into the hole I'd already dug and nodded. I pitched sand by the double handful out of the area where I expected the head to lie. Sure enough. Black stone, dog faced, the jackal headed god of death: Anubis. (OK, for sticklers, guardian of the path to the afterlife, not actually the god of death, but who really cares about that difference?)The statue probably towered over 20 feet in height when standing. The weathering damage showed it had remained vertical for centuries before being knocked aside and buried in the smothering sand. "Anubis."

"That's a big statue," Moffitt gave his opinion.

"Very. And with a pedestal." I went back to the first hole, not freeing the statue, but pulling the sand out from around the square of black stone on which Anubis should stand. It was hollow, like a box.  
Something had resided within the hollow. But what? And why did this statue keep trying to set off something like alarm bells in my head?

I squinted up at the Brit. "Moffitt … Wasn't there … an Alistair Moffitt? Archeology?"

A slight grin curved his mouth. Mmmm. Nice mouth. "My father."

"Cool. Any ideas about this?" I waved a hand to encompass the wall, the flat sand and the statue.

"Not a clue. Not a place I've been before." His companions raised their eyebrows. "What?" he asked. "I haven't been everywhere, you know."

I shelved the reactions to let my mind wander as Troy and Hitchcock neatened the bodies and looked for rocks to cairn over them. A line wandered out of the desert. 'If the black book of the dead is buried at the feet of Anubis, then the book of Amun-Ra is buried … under the feet of the statue of Horus…' It was part of a story an old man once told me. He was so proud of his wife for figuring out … Oh Hell!

Hamunaptra.

Shit.


	2. Chapter 2

Moffitt

Hamunaptra? Was she crazy? Hamunaptra was a myth, a legend, like the Seven Cities of Cibola. It did not exist. I was ignoring the very solid proof that we were someplace that had once been important to which neither my father nor I had been before. What she uncovered was indeed a statue of Anubis, much weathered, but in tact.

I looked over at Sam to see what he was making of the woman. She wasn't an Arab, but she could certainly be German. My eyes traveled back into the oval face framed by hair so black it shone blue in the sunlight. Her pale skin showed no signs of sun exposure, which I found odd given her familiarity with archeology She looked up at me, worry lines creasing her forehead. So, she knew the legends.  
"Hamunaptra is a legend," I assured her.

She rose to her feet in one graceful, almost feline move. Those remarkably green eyes focused on me for a moment, then traveled over our surroundings, including the nearby cliffs as though seeking something. Looking back out over the ruined wall, she seemed to spot what she was looking for. I couldn't help following her gaze. A line of black on the horizon moving toward us - tribesmen.

"Troy!" I called his attention to the line. We moved almost as one to the vehicles. Individual guns might not make an impression on a massed opponent. The .30s on the Jeeps would. We were in the seats and starting the engines before we realized she was not with us.

Cheri walked toward the wall, stepped over and sat down, waiting. There was tension in her slim body. What was she expecting? We moved the Jeeps forward to the open space between the tents and the wall, skirting the sand she'd disturbed with her digging. The line approaching resolved into black robed men on horses. They stopped about a quarter of a mile out. One continued in, a large man seated at ease on a tall deep brown horse. As the rider neared, I could make out black markings on his cheeks and forehead, as well as dark curling hair escaping from his headdress.

She called out a greeting. It sang on the breeze and snapped the man's head to face her. He walked his horse up to where she sat, ignoring us and answered her. At first I thought she spoke to him in some dialect of Arabic just outside my understanding, but I was wrong. The fluid syllables sounded more like what my father had taught me when reading demotic script or hieroglyphs.

I motioned for Hitch to cut the engine. I strained to follow their conversation, for it was indeed Egyptian. I felt as though thousands of years fell away as they talked. They spoke of the Creature, of Hamunaptra and the Hom-Dei as though they were real. He was surprised by her knowledge even as she presented him with what sounded like a pass code. Something about "I come from the East seeking ...".

"What?" Troy demanded of me, unusually monosyllabic for him.

"They are discussing this place. He also refers to it as Hamunaptra. There was something about a Creature and a word I don't know. Hom-Dei."

"Well, they're coming over." Standing in his seat, Troy settled himself against the windscreen, balanced to act if needed.

The man on the horse was cast in a noble mold. The tattoos on his face looked like demotic script, but were undecipherable. Perhaps the symbols had changed with time.

"Sgt. Troy. Gentlemen," she included the rest of us. "This is Ardeth Bey of the Tribes of the Medjai. He and his people are guardians of this place. He would appreciate it if we would vacate the area while they take care of … the rest of this temporary encampment."

"It would be best," Bey's heavily accented English assured us. "While the curse has been … broken, this is not a good place to be. Too many deaths, too many memories."

"Any idea why these men were camped here?" Troy asked.

"Rumors of gold," Bey answered. "The city of the dead holds much that mortals want. Only the curse kept the grave robbers out of the area. And us." There was no feeling of duplicity to the man as he sat at ease before us. He was tense, but we were not the cause. There was a breeze and slight speckling of sand against my face. Bey's tension grew, but not greatly. "There is no love for the German's among my people. Nor for the Allies, although we have ties of friendship with some English. I wish only to see you leave. What is here is for the past. Keep the Germans away and we will deal with this scum." He nodded toward the tents and the dead.

"Why should I trust you?" Troy asked.

I almost opened my mouth to answer him, but decided against it. Troy's judgment was excellent in most cases. I would trust it now.

"Me? No reason. She speaks for you. She knows us, although I do not know how. Until she betrays us, I will trust her." Unspoken that his trust of us hinged on her.

"Thanks," Cheri shot back wryly before looking at Troy. "What treasure lies here is beyond the technology we can bring to bear to dig it up. And there are other dangers, however much you would wish to discount them. Your war is out there." She pointed back the way the Medjai had come. "You want this when the war is over, come back with a crew that understands how not to use bulldozers to find china cups."

There was a certain appeal to what she said. I looked to Troy. A nod. Hitch started our engine. Tully, seated in the back for once, instead of leaning on the gun, nodded also. Troy led the way out, past Bey, then through the opening the black clad horsemen provided. There was something honorable about these men, even if they were Arabs. I found myself praying that the Germans never caught these people.

Troy suddenly circled back to the woman. With a wry grin, she stepped into the passenger seat. She waved at the Medjai as our leader drove away, giving me too much to think about.

 

Ardeth

Word came to us that there was activity at Hamunaptra. At first the news struck a chill in my heart. Then my head reminded me that if the Creature was still alive in any sense, he was at Ahm Shere, not here. Still, with a foreign war raging across our land, it was wise to check on the report. So far, the European war had not caught up to my people. I hoped it had not chosen now to do so. With the son of my English friends visiting us, I would not have his "vacation" disturbed by someone else's war. Given his family's ability to find trouble, I was uneasy enough about his presence without an incursion at Hamunaptra.

Fifty of my men rode out with me. Our standard arms lay against our sides, blades honed sharp to take the heads of our foes. We also carried newer weapons, rifles provided by my friends in England, smuggled to us via the museum in Cairo. I found it amusing that the weapons came into Egypt tucked safely away in a sarcophagus being "returned" by the British Museum. My friend's wife is a wise and devious woman.

There was little activity at the city. Given the Europeans, I expected more. As we approached, one figure took a seat on the wall while others drove two small vehicles into the opening between the tents and the same wall. I could see the guns mounted on the vehicles and motioned for my men to wait. I would investigate the intruders, see if there was a peaceful solution to their presence.

As I approached, I could see the four men on the Jeeps were concerned about our presence. But it was the woman seated on the wall that called to me in a common language that was not Arabic. Like Anck Su Namun, she was slender of build, dark hair crowning her head, her skin silken pale. Eyes the color of Irish grass met my gaze, unwavering and calm. It was a struggle not to pull my rifle and shoot her. Yet there was something more like Evie O'Connell in her look. She smiled and addressed me again, asking if this was truly the city she had heard tales about.

I answered and she asked more questions, about the Creature and the Hom-Dei, having doubted that such things could truly occur. There was only one source for this information. O'Connell. "You know O'Connell?" I challenged her.

"Uhm – that's difficult to answer. If you called him and asked if he knows me, he'd say no. But I know him."

There was an earnest tone to her voice that made me think she told the truth. She then introduced me to the soldiers. Three Americans and a British Sgt. working together. I am not that familiar with Americans, although O'Connell was born one. I know warriors, and each of these was.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" Their names would mean nothing to me, but the answer to why they were in the city would give me the information I needed.

"I'm Cheri Yuconovich. They were captured by the Arabs here, detained for the nearest German force, I think. I … um … showed up and changed the odds."

She made a face I recognized as she spoke. Only part of the answer had been voiced. Yet there was no hint of threat here. How she arrived was not relevant to what she had done. I could smell death and see where the bodies were laid out to be dealt with in the European fashion.

I turned to the men who sat or stood at the ready, regarding me with measuring eyes. She introduced them swiftly. Their leader asked me why the Germans and Arabs would be in the ancient city of the dead. My answer was judged satisfactory, allowing them to decide to leave me and my men to deal with the bodies. They started to pull out, leaving the woman standing near me. Her eyes sparkled with silent laughter as Troy returned for her, curtly ordering her into the vehicle.

I caught the American woman's eyes as she climbed into the Jeep and knew we would meet again. She knew the answer that my friend O'Connell tried so hard to ignore. She walked the sands of time itself, although I did not understand how I knew this about her. Allah in his wisdom and the ancient gods were not inclined to do more than give hints to mortals.

My men rode in as the Allied warriors drove out. I watched them until the last speck disappeared across the horizon, wondering whether we would meet again. Then I joined my men in disposing of the tents and horses, leaving the bodies to the covering of sand. The Creature was no longer at Hamunaptra, so we did not fear to leave him henchmen to recall to this world. As we reburied the statue of Anubis, a light breeze sprinkled sand over us. Some of my men made the sign of the evil eye, warding off the workings of the Creature that lay beneath those sands for so long.

As we left, I worried that this would bring us hardship, that somehow the Creature would use this to his advantage. Some of those in the city thought to use the Europeans and the Americans against each other. It was much in my thoughts that to stay out of the conflict was wiser than to become involved. Once before we played the game for Europe and in the end destroyed the Englishman who would have given us our place in the world of peace that ensued. Then the Medjai had sent men to fight with Faisal. This time, we would not be moved to enter into the fight for our lands until it came to us. Though we might defend what lay beneath our sands.

We returned to our encampment to watch and wait. We had contacts in the nearest towns and in Cairo. I would know more of this small patrol and the woman with them.


	3. Chapter 3

Moffitt

We'd traveled about 15 miles from what we now believed to be Hamunaptra when Hitch yelled and pointed. Smoke rose into the air to the West of us. It was difficult to tell how far away the fire was across the desert, but anything that might be a German incursion required investigation, so we veered away from our course and went to take a look. Fire in the desert is not always a friend.

The smoke rose from multiple sources, thinning as we approached the small wadi, a depression in the sand where water sometimes came close to the surface. A shallow well would allow travelers to refill canteens, to camp for the night. We parked on the rise to the east of the drop, approaching on foot in silence. Troy motioned for Cheri to go with him. Her soft soled boots were silent on the sand before she dropped prone to wriggle the last of the way up to the edge without being seen. The experience that showed in her movements gave me a chill. This was an agent of some sort and we still were unsure about whose side she was on.

We lay on our bellies to look over the ridge. The sight below sickened me. Troy and the others seemed as effected. An encampment of Bedouin had been slaughtered. Nothing moved in the wadi except flies and crawling insects on their way to feast on the remains. We took the Jeeps over the dune to investigate, wanting the big guns on the vehicles to scatter any enemy left. Everyone in the camp lay dead; not a child or baby had been left alive. The variety of stabs and gunshot wounds were incredible even to our eyes.

"Uhm, gentlemen, do you notice anything odd here? I mean, aside from the fact that they massacred the encampment?" All eyes were suddenly on Cheri. "No women. Old, young, children, they're all male. There isn't a single female body here. Now, I could understand no women between say 10 and 30, but babies? Old women?" She seemed as confused by this as we were, her eyes roving the area. They'd killed horses and goats as well as the tribesmen.

Troy regarded her steadily and shrugged. "Slavers?" Technically, slavery was illegal, but that did not stop a flourishing trade in flesh in the backwaters of the world.

"Babies?" she shot back.

It did seem a little extreme. "Another tribe," I suggested and knew I was wrong before the words were out. Again, why take babies or children? The more I thought about it, the less sense it made.

"We don't have time to figure this out. We need to get back to base," Troy decided.

In spite of Troy's statement, we took the time to bury the bodies and put out the flames on the tents, but left the rest to be scavenged by other tribes or lost in the sand. Sometimes being a civilized person requires acknowledgment even in the midst of that most barbaric of actions, war. I noticed Cheri checking the bodies of the animals, including two scrawny dogs that lay before the largest tent.

I stopped by her as she shook her head. "What?"

Her eyes met mine, the sheen of tears being held back making them shimmer. "This is not good," she said softly. "There is something terrible in the works. Look." She shifted the dog's body slightly. Male. She met my gaze again. "Not just the humans."

For just a moment, I saw fear in her, deep, abiding, soul tearing fear. Then it vanished from her face as she stepped into the tent. In spite of the heat of a fierce desert sun burning above us, I felt cold.

 

Troy

We're out on a routine patrol investigating rumors of an Arab/German collaboration, another one, when we walked into Captain Dietrich's trap. I should know better by now, but the information came from a good source and stopping the Jerry's is what we do. That's when this woman showed up, killed the Arabs left to guard us and we were suddenly in cuckoo land instead of the war zone I know. I was glad enough to get my men free, but I was almost there when she walked in. She says her name's Yuconovich, a mangled Russian immigrant name, but something doesn't ring right with me. She talks the stuff Moffitt reads. And the meeting with the Bey guy could be a set up.

Only it didn't feel like a set up. The Bey guy - well, Moffitt doesn't know him, which is a little odd on its own, since he tends to know just about everyone who's involved with archaeology and artifacts. Still, I'd heard rumors of a batch of Bedouin who weren't playing house with either side, just keeping to themselves and protecting their own. There's something about Bey that said "honest". I don't get hunches very often, but with this guy I had one. Still, she's jabbering away in something that doesn't really sound like Arabic and Bey is talking back to her without a hitch before switching to heavily accented English to address us. I'd like to know what she said.

Hamunaptra. I've never heard of it before but the sound of the city's name runs a shiver up my spine. That dog headed statue she dug up worries me almost as much as the woman does. There's something not right here, but I don't know what it is. Bey warns us off, saying he'll take care of the bodies and the camp. The Yuconovich woman tells us that the treasure beneath the ruins is impossible to get to, at least, I think that's what she's telling us. As though we were damned treasure hunters.

Moffitt seems content to leave the place to the Arabs. Hitch needs his arm seen to before we go out again and we need to debrief back at headquarters. I thought about leaving the woman with the Arabs as we rolled out of the city. Then I thought better of it. If she's a German agent, better to take her with us and deal with her treachery as it happens. If not, well, stranded in the desert with the Bedouin isn't the most comfortable place to find yourself even when they're acting friendly.

Fire in the desert. Far enough away from the ruins that Bey's men probably couldn't see the smoke. We approach it with caution, taking a quick look over the rim of the surrounding dunes and my stomach turns at what we see. The woman doesn't turn a hair while she's trying to figure out what happened and why. Moffitt's watching her as we investigate, buryng the bodies, even little baby boys, but he isn't making any decisions yet. We leave the massacre to head into the town where out current base is and I have to figure out what I'm telling the brass about our encounters. Deitrich didn't explain anything in his hurry to bind us up. He was headed out to deal with something. I'm wondering if it was the mess in the wadi.

As for the woman, her accent's pure U.S., but that doesn't mean anything these days. Still, she's out of the ordinary enough that it's hard to imagine that she's anything other than what she says … only she doesn't say. Can't say my gut's happy about her, but I don't want to turn her over to be locked up either. I hate this kind of game.


	4. Chapter 4

Dietrich

Desert rats!

Once again Troy and his men have escaped me. It was a perfect trap, leaking news that we were seeking something at that accursed city. For all the legends of gold, we found nothing, although we did capture the patrol. Then the radio message came in and I was sending out men to check on a dead end.

Troy glared at me as he was tied to the tent pole. "My man needs a doctor." He referred to the private whose arm broke as he was thrown from his vehicle.

"When we get to town. For now he will survive, as we both know."

"Someplace to go?"

Damn his inquisitiveness. I ignored the American as my men made certain they were well secured. "You have no need to know, Sgt. We will be gone for a few hours. There are many of our Arab friends to keep you here, especially with Pvt. Tully damaged. Patience, Sgt. I will be back soon enough to deal with you."

"No gold, huh?"

I restrained the instinct to strike him before I left with my men. I knew I should have left my men to guard them, but as short handed as we are I could not spare even one with message to find a tribe that knew the directions to where another of His desires lay. I am tiring of the demands that we prosecute a war and search for every legenday item that is wanted back in Berlin. The wadi we went to was a dead end. The entire tribe was dead, the bodies lying in grotesque tangles in the sand, fouling the water of the oasis.

"Hauptman, this is … have you noticed? There are no women. No female children. No female animals. This is not the work of another tribe." Gustave shuddered and crossed himself. Not an action I would have expected.

I agreed that it was odd. "There are tracks leading north. Follow them."

Gustave and the others snapped to, boarding their vehicles swiftly. Apparently we all wanted to wipe the scene from our eyes. I gave no thought to burying the dead. Perhaps I should have.

We lost the tracks in the sand, casting about across hard areas to see if we could pick them up again. By dusk, we were too far out to get back to camp, so I ordered the men to set up camp. We slept in our vehicles until sunrise. Driving at night on the dunes, even with moonlight, is not safe.

At Hamunaptra there was nothing but a row of burials. The night winds erased any trail that might have helped us. The tents were gone along with the food and water. Furniture remained looking forlorn and abandoned. I ordered the men to load the remaining items up. We would return to the town where our supplies were stored and pick up new material before heading to this mythical oasis. The patter of sand where there is no breeze is getting on my nerves.

As for the wadi, I fear that there is something going on in this desert, something no German should be involved in. We took a route that should have taken us past the spot again. We found the water hole that supplies the place and nothing else, not even a sign that someone else had buried the dead.

Now I have orders to find the Oasis at Ahm Shere and to bring back an ancient artifact that will summon a horde of warriors like no others. I have my orders but no map and only very basic information on where this oasis was; somewhere along the Blue Nile. The tribesmen are dead, probably at the hands of those annoying Americans. Although it is unlike them to have used only blades to kill. How they took the tents and the rest of my supplies, I do not know. Next time I will not leave that damned patrol in other hands. No, next time I will dispose of Sgt. Troy and his men, and that will be an end of it. There is no information they could have that is worth the time and effort I have put into attempting to capture and detain them. Now, all I have is an empty desert and a demand that I find whatever relic of supposed power might be at a mythical oasis. I am growing weary of this war.

"Move out!"


	5. Chapter 5

Cheri

The sun beats down on us as we travel to wherever the men with me are headed. I have only the haziest idea where Hamunaptra lies in the desert. I'm thinking Cairo is theoretically only a week or so away by boat and camel, at least according to the story I was told. The jeeps cover land as tirelessly as the living ships of the desert, but at a greater speed. Before nightfall, we enter a small village, an American flag flying discreetly over the small headquarters where the men will find their superiors. So, the question is: What will they do with me now?

Answer: Apparently nothing. Sgt. Troy and his men pile off the vehicles and walk into the building leaving me to my own devices. They trust me not to steal the Jeep? Silly people. There is, of course, the question of where would I go and how would I pay for things. That is the crux of my dilemma. While I did not leave home without my American Express card, it's worthless here as are the three or four other pieces of plastic in my wallet. The cash and coin in my pockets are not real useful either. In current coinage, dimes and quarters are pure silver, not the sandwiched pieces of stupidity I have. Not to mention that the dates and engraving are all wrong as well.

So, Troy and Moffitt are surprised to find me still sitting in the jeep as the sun sets and they come back out of whatever briefing they've attended. Or debriefing as the case actually is. Having had several hours to observe the town, I find there isn't a lot to do here.

Troy lifted his eyebrows at me.

I stood up with a grin. "Hey, what you see is what you get. I've got boots, vest, t shirt and trousers; and appropriate underpinnings. Other than that, I'm a bit adrift here. I suspect that whatever is happening, you will be instrumental in getting me where I need to be."

"You're a civilian," he objected.

What? He was gonna dis me because I wasn't in uniform? "Deputize me?" shot out of my mouth before I could stop it. OK, it was a stupid remark. "Look, gentlemen, I can be useful. Multi-linguistic, familiar with the languages and the area, not inclined to want to hob nob with the German troops or the Arabs. Not necessarily above using my feminine wiles to get what is needed and sometimes a fifth wheel is not the issue everyone thinks it is." I tried to look innocently inviting. Yeah, I probably could have neatly seduced both Troy and Moffitt into eating out of my hand. I don't work that way and Hitch or Pettigrew would have put a bullet in my brain. Then I really would have had some explaining to do.

"Why?" Troy's voice was as hard as his eyes.

Of the great philosophical questions of the world, I probably hate that one the most because I can't usually get away with the truthful answer. Which is generally 'because'. So what to tell him? I have a really bad feeling that life, the universe and a few other things are going to hang in the balance if I don't? A man in the middle of the war is really going to believe that one. Hah! So, I stalled with something comparatively not armageddon-ish.

"Truth? I don't know what is going on. Someone decimated an entire tribe, wiped the bloodlines off the planet and then left it as a message ..." My voice halted as my brain cut in. Shit. It was a message. I just didn't know what it meant and neither did these men. Hell. Maybe staying teamed with them was not such a hot idea. I made one of those infinitely meaningless motions that my hands make sometimes. I uhm'd. I sought vainly for words that might sway him and realized that even if I had them, staying with them might not be the best idea. I've been on my own before. What's the line? 'I'm a big girl, I know my way home.' Of course, that was sort of a lie since I didn't know how I'd arrived in the first place.

So, jumping down I stuck my foot in my mouth. "Then again. You may be right." And walked off without a backwards look. What they didn't know might just ignore them long enough for me to make it not matter. I could hope. Stepping into the chill of deep shadow in a narrow street, I was so intent on making sure the men did not follow me and not looking wistfully back at what was probably an opportunity for a hot meal, I missed the guy with the baseball bat. OK, blunt instrument, there's not a lot of baseball in small Arab towns during WWII. Lights out.


	6. Chapter 6

Moffitt

I swear we stood there for a full minute as the woman walked off into what was not a safe part of town, all of our mouths probably half open at her sheer audacity. Is there a safe part of town for a non-Arab woman in an Arab town? By the time Troy and I put our brains in gear and started moving she was gone. The street stood empty, not even a robed and turbaned man in sight. I know I was frowning as we exchanged glances over that. It wasn't like she ran.

"Hell." That gave me a smile. Troy doesn't cuss a lot, contrary to the stereotypical American service man.

Looking on the brighter side, I reminded him that she certainly took care of herself when she arrived at Hamunaptra. Even if I did feel odd about the statement since we still had no idea how she got there. "I don't think I'd worry a lot. She took care of seven men when she arrived, however that was. Looks like she's decided she can survive without us. Let's get some food and rest," I told him in a lighter tone than I felt. "Your people want us out of here at first light," I reminded him.

Feeling a trifle cad-like, I joined the other three in our vehicles and we went to the barracks for a shower and change of clothing. It's amazing what being clean can do for one's outlook.  
We met after wards to go eat. From their looks, I could see that none of us were happy with the turn of events. "It's a small town. We're bound to find her again and we'll tell her we need her expertise."

Troy gave me a look of inquiry. "You think she knows where this place is the Germans are heading for?"

That had not occurred to me. I certainly had never been to the legendary oasis of Ahm Shere, didn't actually believe it existed. Since Miss Yuconovich had barely turned a hair at the reality of Hamunaptra, there was a good chance she would be equally capable of dealing with locating Ahm Shere. After all, twenty-four hours ago, I'd have denied my being in the fabled city of the dead or that the Medjai still existed.  
I think that's when I sat down, jostling the beer in my hand and spilling it. I had met Ardeth Bey who spoke ancient Egyptian and claimed to be of the Medjai, the Pharaoh's guards. It dawned on me that the other three were regarding me strangely. "Medjai."

"What about them?" Troy asked, thinking I had suddenly garnered some sort of insight.

Perhaps I had. "The Medjai were Pharaoh's guards, Troy. Three thousand years ago, until the end of the Egyptian empire, the Medjai were legendary for their loyalty to the Pharaoh and for their fighting skill."

Hitch looked confused. "So that means what? The guys we met today were some kind of ancient society?"

Talk about hitting the nail squarely on the head. "Exactly. They are claiming to be … pharaoh's guards. Their mission passed down through generations."

Tully looked skeptical. "You mean if we asked 'em nice they might tell us where to find this Uhm Cher place?"

"Ahm Shere," I corrected without thinking. Now that was a thought. But where would we find Ardeth Bey and his men? The Bedouin could move across the desert like the wind that whispered across the dunes at night, sculpting waves that obliterated all else. "If we knew where to find them."

We all knew the next move. Find Miss Yuconovich before we moved out in the morning. It was going to be a long night.


	7. Chapter 7

Dietrich

I was surprised when my men returned from town bearing gifts. They had not caught the rats, but that was expected. Instead they brought me a woman who hung over Erik's shoulder like a saddle bag, but more limp and lifeless. He dropped her on the floor at my feet, a smile curving his thick lipped mouth.

"Hauptman, I bring you the woman of the rats you wish to capture. She rode into town with them, I am told. Remained with their vehicles while they were within their headquarters building and then walked away from them." He aimed a kick at her ribs and was surprised when she reacted, grabbing his leg, throwing him to the ground and then twisting until I heard the bone snap. His yell of pain was more of a squeal than I would have expected.

She shook blue black hair out of her face to find my Luger inches away from her eyes. Raising a finely arched eyebrow, she chuckled and released him. "Friend of yours?"

I could not tell whether Erik had passed out or was being cautious for the first time in our acquaintance. "Subordinate. You damaged him."

"He kicked me. Twice. I defended myself," she pointed out calmly. She came to her feet gracefully for a woman bearing manacles on her wrists. She was a little above medium height, slender and dressed as ... I knew not what, but it suited her.

"What were you doing with Sgt. Troy?"

More speculation in that bright gaze. "Not nearly enough," she shot back suggestively, but the smile on her face was not … predatory or particularly seductive.

"You might want to answer my questions in a less cryptic manner. Who are you?"

"Cheri Christiana Yuconovich, Ph. D. A votre service." She swept me a small bow before locating the edge of my desk to perch on. "And you?" Her eyes fell to my name patch. "Hauptman Deitrich," she continued. "What brings you so close to enemy lines?" she practically purred the question.

"None of your business, Fraulein."

"Doctor," she countered. "None of my business. You disturb things at Hamunaptra that you should have left alone," she started ticking the things she knew off on her fingers. "You … were not, I believe, responsible for the massacre at the wadi. And you are now …" her eyes searched my face for a moment and her color paled. "Ahm Shere. You're looking for the Oasis at Ahm Shere," she told me, her eyes dilated and her voice barely more than a whisper. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no."

I grabbed her arm as she slid off the desk. "What do you know about the Oasis?" How could she know about my orders? What did the Americans know?

She searched my face, apparently finding something to her satisfaction. "The Oasis at Ahm Shere was swallowed by the desert about 9 years ago. There is nothing there for anyone to find. No water. Nothing."

"What makes you think it is water I seek?" At least she didn't know everything, although if the oasis was indeed destroyed, we were in for a long march with nothing to show for it at the end.

"Because the Spear is already in Berlin," she answered reasonably if a little cryptically. "And the only legendary thing the Oasis held was the Scorpion King to lead the armies of Anubis; warriors of sand led by a monster, not the best idea in the world."

Warriors of sand and a monster, an apt description of … I dispensed with that thought as quickly as I could. Still, this Dr. Yuconovich knew far more than she should about our leader's interest in things … beyond normal. "You say it was swallowed by the desert. You know where it was, then?" I could almost see the wheels going round as she tried to find a story that would absolve her. It was a pleasure to see her work to find words.

She pulled out of my hand and regarded me steadily, weighing her options. Clank. She dropped the manacles on the desk. "Some time ago I was told the story of what happened at Ahm Shere. I can probably find it. I cannot guarantee the water courses that flowed out of the oasis are still running. They used to join up to the Nile somewhere below where it becomes the Blue Nile. I don't think it will give you a water source beyond the river itself."

"Why will you not guide us to the water? We are winning. We will win." Her eyes were suddenly merry with laughter. She did not believe me that we would win, but she also knew there was more than an easy water source at stake. "You do not believe we will win?"

"The German war machine is great," she agreed. "But it has failings. The world is not what it was. Overt conquest is no longer the coin of the realm. Besides, there is something more going on in the desert than your foolish war."

It was obvious we were both thinking of the massacre at the wadi.


	8. Chapter 8

Cheri

I had a headache and I was being carried, slung over a shoulder, like a sack of grain. The graceless goon was unaware that I was awake. I hit the floor, dumped as though I had no further use to the clod carrying me and then he had the unmitigated gall to aim a size 13 storm trooper boot at my ribs … again. I took great joy in breaking his leg with a simple twist as he thought to maybe break my own ribs.

Seriously hot and Germanic in a Captain's uniform had a gun on me just after the snapping sound and the squeal as Teutonic and stupid hit the floor. What was it about this area of the war that everything except Klaus the Klueless was tall, wiry muscled and … I squelched that particular line of thought. Sexual innuendo apart, getting entangled here would be difficult at best, tragic at worst. I did not belong here. Not that I had any idea how I was going to get back to when I did belong.

Hauptman Deitrich. He spoke English with a slight Germanic accent charmingly riding his English intonations. His voice spoke of good schools in the European manner. He was angry, but not just at me. So, I gave him my insouciant best which probably should have gotten me shot, but didn't. He did grab my arm, bicep area and sound threatening.

Oh, Hell. He was heading for Ahm Shere. The Oasis at Ahm Shere, where the pyramid of the Scorpion King stood surrounded by jungle with deadly cursed critters in it. Only it didn't any more. O'Connell told me about the army of Anubis, about the legendary hero and conqueror turned monster, about the fall of the High Priest of Egypt into … into whatever lay beneath the pyramid. Ahm Shere became desert again when Rick O'Connell poked a javelin through the soft belly of the thing the Scorpion King became to serve Anubis forever. I thought it was a great story. Now, I wasn't so certain it was a tall tale.

The Fuhrer wanted something he thought could be found at Ahm Shere. Hitler didn't know the rest of the story. Wow, shades of Paul Harvey, I distracted myself for a moment and almost giggled. We were in deep trouble and the German hottie in front of me thought I knew how to get him to the Oasis. Multiple levels of blasphemous expletives deleted. Everything inside me told me to run, to hide, to find a hole and pull it in after me. But the poor Captain in front of me did not deserve whatever was going to happen any more than the tribe at the wadi had, or the men of the patrol I'd ridden with or the Medjai. I felt frozen in spite of the heat, so very cold deep inside as I realized that I was probably the only one with enough information behind me to keep this war hot on the sand instead of cold in the depths of someone else's Hell.

Fuck.

"Fine. I'll see if I can locate the route to Ahm Shere. But don't blame me if all you find is sand and death." Echoes of Rick O'Connell and his thoughts on Hamunaptra.


	9. Chapter 9

Hitch

It had sure been a strange day. First we get caught by that Kraut Deitrich and roped to tent poles while he runs off into the desert after something else. That was kind of strange since he hates Troy more than anything. It must have been something really important to tear him away from gloating about catching us like that.

Then we run into that woman Cheri. Damn, she was a fine looker, even in slacks. But the Sarge was suspicious of her. Maybe he should be. She certainly seemed to know things that were beyond even Sgt. Moffitt. Talked to the Arab guy dressed all in black in some dialect even Sgt. Moffitt didn't recognize exactly. Makes you wonder what else she knows that we don't.

The Arabs were all dressed in black, which is unusual. Mostly they wear white and striped stuff, including the head pieces, but these guys were different. There was something about them that didn't say shifty and double dealing like a lot of the ones in town. There wasn't any bluster, just flat statement of action.

And that city, Hamunaptra. Strange word. Gives me chills thinking about the place; almost like I could feel the centuries and the ghosts of the dead. Those little spatters of windblown sand didn't help any. That was spooky, like something was behind it.

The Sarge took it in stride when Miss Yuconovich left, but I think him and Moffitt are worried about the way she disappeared. I know she could be a spy, but I liked the lady. She had some guts to take on all those Arab guards like she did, and then come looking for us, even if she didn't know it was us to begin with. Get the feeling she could be real useful in a fight. Ain't gonna say it, but I think losing her might have been a bad thing.

We head out in the morning to find this Ahm Shere place. Probably take on the Krauts along the way. They're up to no good as usual. Guess I should turn in, need my sleep. Besides, there's not a girl here I'm interested in.


	10. Chapter 10

Alex O'Connell

My parents are doing something dangerous and difficult in Europe, so I get shipped off to see my favorite Medjai, Ardeth Bey. I don't think he really wants me here. Middle of a war, parents on one side, half the world on the other and him trying to keep his people out of it. Last thing he needed showing up was a 17 year old archaeological genius who desperately wants to be involved in the war instead of skirting it.  
I watched him ride out with a bunch of his men this morning. Something was up and no one would tell me what. Out of all the camp, I was the only one over 14 who isn't a warrior … well, the only male who isn't. I hated it. But that's the way the world divides between 'civilized' where we're children until the world says we aren't and 'tribal' where childhood ends when you're big enough to swing a sword or shoulder a rifle.

Ardeth's niece caught me trying to saddle a horse and go after them. "No," she said pulling the reins from my hands. "You cannot go. You would dishonor my uncle if anything happened to you," she chided gently.

"I'm not a child," I said quietly, but I felt like yelling it. I'm taller than most of Ardeth's men are, especially the younger ones.

"But you are a child in your homeland," she countered.

"I helped stop Imhotep!" I nearly yelled at her. I did, too. If I hadn't left clues all along the way, my Dad and Mum would never have found me in time to save my life … OK, it doesn't sound all that heroic when you put it that way, but sometimes being a cocky arsehole is the only way to survive the bad guys.

"When you were eight and protected by the arm band of the Scorpion King. I have heard the tale. I know that you are brave and … cocky," she produced the word with pride. "That you have much of your father and mother in you, both here," her fingertips brushed my forehead, "and here," she touched my heart. "But this war, it kills young men, old men, women and children …" Her wide dark eyes were sad at the thought.

"Naima, how can you … all right. I have some more to work out on the scrolls anyway." I capitulated. She was right. Bey would never be able to tell my dad that I'd done something stupid and died because of it. Considering the number of stupidly heroic things my dad's done, and survived, maybe they were right. There would be another time …

Later I was glad I hadn't gone. Not that I haven't seen death before. My trip to Ahm Shere when I was eight, with Imhotep, Meela and Lochna was strewn with death, the old priest trying hard to kill my parents as they tracked him across the desert. But what the men talked about finding at the wadi not far from Hamunaptra was chilling. It is not the Bedouin or Medjai way to massacre tribes. Not that they don't fight among themselves, but … Ardeth says there is something very wrong about what happened there.

I have a feeling he's right. Something dark and creepy seems to be stalking the night since I've been here. That's a laugh, they send me to Ardeth to keep me safe and I think there's something worse here than what they're dealing with. Although, given what Ardeth knows and has done, keeping me from dying shouldn't be that hard.

I would like to know why he's sad. He hides it well, but there's something underneath that keeps him from showing the smile that melts all the girls in the tribe. That's another thing I find confusing. Ardeth Bey is leader of the tribes of the Medjai, but he's not married. I know he's more than old enough to be married and has been for a long time; I mean he's as old as my Dad. I've heard Naima and his Mum talking about it. I don't think that they know I understand them. I also think his Mum is beginning to worry about his having kids. Watching him this last week, I think he's so responsible for the tribes, he doesn't think he has time to have them. Or maybe he doesn't think any of the girls would be interested in him.

I know better. I watched at least five of them try to throw out lures to him and he seems to be Mr. Oblivious. I wonder if I should talk to him about this? Right, I'm gonna talk to the guy who fought off the Army of Anubis about his love life. Probably not.


	11. Chapter 11

Moffitt

We left the town just after dawn to go find whoever was assigned to the Ahm Shere mission. We presumed it would be Dietrich as his was the only unit deep enough into this area of the desert to be easily assigned. Find Dietrich and we would find Ahm Shere, denying the Germans whatever they sought there.

The second day out we spotted his convoy moving deeper into the desert, south and east. They seem to be heading into the ancient burial areas around Karnak. What the Germans would want there is beyond me. The tombs were ransacked long ago by robbers and early archaeologists, who were not much better than those who merely stole the treasures to feed their families. When they broke for lunch, Dietrich and woman dressed in robes left the shade of his vehicle to stretch their legs. There was something about her walk that seemed familiar.

"Troy ..."

"Yeah?"

"It's her." I was certain of it. Just as certain as I had been three days earlier that she was not a spy. I felt used.

Troy threw me a knowing grin. "How can you be sure? At this distance ..."

"There's something about her walk that remains with one," I told him. Tully hid a smirk, turning his head. At least he didn't want to really laugh about my sensibilities.

"Hey, Sarge," Hitchcock called. He gestured us over to where we could get a view of the dunes behind the convoy. There was a dark smudge in the sand. Curious. After the Germans moved on, we went to investigate. A black silk scarf lay anchored at one end by a coin bracelet. Beneath that was a damp spot with the hieroglyph for Karnak sketched on the smoothed surface.

Troy's eyebrows raised at me, as did Hitch's. I translated the word. But why Karnak? What could they want there? How did it link to Ahm Shere?

I wasn't the only one with questions. Troy had them also. Was there a way to arrive at Karnak ahead of the Germans?

"There might be."

We took a look at the maps, some of them copies of ones hundreds of years old. It looked like there was a back route to the ancient city of temples. That made me grin. We rolled out, all of us curious. Why had the woman helped us, for that was what the scarf and sign had been. There was no map to Ahm Shere, unless someone had the directions in their head. But if Cheri had those directions, why was she sharing them with us since she was taking the Germans there?

Troy answered that question. "She's on the Allied side, not the Gerries."

"Indeed. She told you this? Or are you pulling it out of thin air?" I asked.

There are days when I hate his slow smile. "She wore what she did so that the missing scarf and bracelet wouldn't be missed. Just like she said our war was not at Hamunaptra, she is saying that we need to be in on whatever Dietrich is after at Ahm Shere. She's taking him to Karnak to delay him."

"You're sure about that?"

Hitch chuckled. "Sarge, there's no map to where we're going. Maybe she's taking the Kraut to places that could have directions."

"Or, perhaps, she's distracting him from what he seeks," I acknowledged. But what would they be seeking? A water source? The Nile was always there, the Blue Nile feeding into it. Had they mentioned an oasis in connection with the name? Yet Ahm Shere was, like the fabled burial city we'd been held captive in, a legend, a myth.

There is a kernel of truth at the bottom of most legends. Could that be it? Could the legend of the Scorpion King and his legions be what the German's sought? I was not going to believe in that until I had more proof. I'm a scientist, not a story teller.


	12. Chapter 12

Troy

None of us were happy to see our companion from Hamunaptra with the Germans, especially Moffitt I didn't trust the woman, but I hadn't figured her for a collaborator either. Hitch's keen eye sight spotted the clue she left behind. Was it for us? Or was it for someone else? Who knew. We could be walking right into a German trap. Only it didn't feel like a trap. Whatever game the Yuconovich woman was playing, it was deep. Moffitt doesn't think Ahm Shere is anything but a myth. The Gerries think it's real, or they wouldn't be going there. I'm a little worried about what they think to find. The story about a water source far from the front lines just doesn't sit well.

As we follow the German convoy at a discreet distance, I wonder if she's guiding us a swell because of the massacre we found. That place disturbed her ... or the strangeness of the abductions and killing did.  
Moffitt says he knows a back route to Karnak. Another city of the dead, just want I want to head for. I'm getting tired of the dead motif. Still, we're making good time and Dietrich doesn't know we're here.

Tully's arm is healing. The brass thought this was easy enough we wouldn't be hard on the break under the cast he wore. I'm glad we didn't have to bring someone new with us. I hate breaking in people who don't last.

Ahead of us there's a flash of light off metal. A second and a third follow the first. We're being watched. I motioned for Hitch to keep an eye out for hostiles. Looking back, I could see that Jack was telling the same to Tully. He pulled up beside us, shouting over the engines.

"We've got company. They're robed in black. Our friends from the other day?"

I shrugged. "We'll see."


	13. Chapter 13

Ardeth

I was glad to see Alex still in camp when I returned with my men. Given the history of his family and the desert, I was content that he had found nothing of more interest than the scrolls he and my niece were translating. I was not so glad to see my scouts from the nearby town returned already. Quickly they told me that the Allied forces were interested in something that lay far to the south and east. They guessed they were interested in Ahm Shere which we all knew no longer existed. My youngest brother's son reported that the Germans were also heading out into the desert, toward the Sudan. If they truly sought the pyramid of the Scorpion King, they were doomed to disappointment.

I found Alex with Naima, my niece. Seeing their heads together was a pleasure as they worked out a translation. Naima is very intelligent and learns well. Evie has seen to it we have access to books that my people would not otherwise have had. She believes education in the English and American manner is the answer to where my people must go now that the Creature is no longer a threat. I am not certain I agree, but it is a joy to watch the children of my brothers bloom in the knowledge they gather.

My Aunt Raschirit came bustling to greet me, bringing me water for my hands and face and shooing me to be seated while she and her daughters brought me food and drink. I knew this scene was repeated in the tents of my men; wives, mothers, aunts and daughters seeing to their needs after the hardships of the day. I wondered how my brother in arms O'Connell was faring. He and Evelyn were deep into the mire of the war in Europe, seeking adventures I was content to be well out of.

I looked to the youth Alex and saw that soon he would be as his father was. Adventure is in the blood of the boy from both sides of his family. He seems far younger than the young men of my people. Yet he is older in knowledge that seemed steeped in his bones. I do not know how much he has told his mother and father of his trip to Ahm Shere when he was younger.

We talked of the trip once, when he came to us while his mother was recovering from the loss of his sister. The child was still born; a terrible blow to both Evelyn and Rick; one it took some time for her to accept. Alex stayed with my family for a time then. One night we spoke of the trip, exchanging stories of what happened to us in Imhotep's race to the oasis and our race to stop him; to rescue the boy. I never doubted the courage of the O'Connells, but his story showed me the face of fear covered by a mask of bravado that I recognized in his father. I sometimes regret the choices we made then, but to have lost Alex would have broken his parents. I am forever glad that I chose as I did.

A young warrior entered my tent as my Aunt withdrew, leaving me to my refreshment.

"Rashidi, enter and be welcome," I greeted him as was customary. His eyes met mine, but immediately went to where Naima and Alex sat pouring over an ancient parchment together. Was there anger in his face to see them thus? It seemed so. The women of the Medjai do not veil themselves as do the women of the towns. Much like the Tuareg, we are not afraid that their beauty will tempt others; it is the duty of others to resist such foolishness.

Rashidi bowed and confirmed my nephew's report of the German's heading out into the desert, toward the ancient temple complex at Karnak. Then he gave me news that I had not expected. There is a woman with green eyes and black hair traveling with them. His description fit that of the woman with the Allied patrol. I am troubled by this news even as I thank Rashidi and dismiss him. I am also troubled by the hard look he sends toward Alex and Naima. I do not understand the look. Naima is not promised to him, nor has he spoken to my brother about her. Still, there is that in his demeanor that makes me uneasy.


	14. Chapter 14

Alex

Rashidi came in to talk to Ardeth. I couldn't hear a lot of what he was saying, but he kept looking over at Naima. I don't like the way he looks at her. I know she's considered 'of age' by her people, but I'm pretty sure she and her brother have talked about a guy named Abdul who is a few years older than she is. The warriors of the Medjai tend to marry later in life, finishing their training before they think of having a wife and family.

I think Abdul's scary; like my dad's friend is scary. They're warriors in the manner of the past; steel and death. Sometimes I'm really glad they're not involved in the war and wish my parents weren't. Sometimes I wish I was older and could be involved instead of being shunted off to do meaningless translations while the world burns.

Naima went to help her mother make dinner and then to serve it to the men of the house, me included. I'm sort of a no man's land here, old enough to fight by tribal standards, but not by my own people's. As we finished eating, we heard engines coming up fast on the encampment. Ardeth gestured for me to stay in the tent while he and the others went to see what was coming. I have a bad feeling about this.


	15. Chapter 15

Ardeth

I left Alex in my tent as I went to see what was going on outside. In the clearing were several vehicles, German by the build of them. A tall, stocky man stepped out of the first vehicle. His right leg was in a cast, yet he barely walked with a limp. Even from a distance I could see he was trouble. His upper lip curled at what he saw. Many of his men were moving through the camp, pulling women and children out of their tents and moving them toward the open area; herding them.

The leader spoke to us in German. Most of the crowd looked around curiously and tried to head back for their tents. The soldiers refused to let them pass.

"Who is leader here?" He finally demanded in English, as with many of his people, our language was not one he would bother with.

Before I could answer, a woman spoke up, one of my aunts, telling him that our leader was not in camp, that he and his warriors were out clearing the water wells for the next leg of our trip through the desert. I held my tongue, keeping my face shadowed. If she felt the need to protect me, I would wait and see what came.

A soldier moved my aunt forward to speak to the man who introduced himself as Lt. Erik Gruber of the Third Reich. The name meant nothing to any of us. "I seek an ancient place," he continued. "It is called Ahm Shere. I seek a map or a guide for my commanding officer. He relies now on a Juden, a woman of the Jews. I would rather see one of your people get the benefit of leading us to our goal."

While it is true that many of the Islamic people see the Jews as an enemy, we have little interaction with those in the cities. Yet he lied to us about this. I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. His desire to reach the oasis was the only truth in his words.

Most of the women knew nothing of the route to Ahm Shere, they were not with us when we fought the army of Anubis and saved the world from the Creature's plans. My people grew more restless, wishing to return to their homes as the night crept in over the dunes, dinners were cooking across the camp and would soon burn if they were not attended to.

Then there was a commotion to my right and I looked to see Rashidi dragging something through the crowd. He dumped his load at the German's feet. It was Alex, bruised and bleeding, half conscious. "Here," he said clearly. "Here is your map. Take the English and go." His sneer was nearly as deep as the German's.

"A beaten and bloody map," the man mused. "Who is this?"

"Alexander O'Connell," Rashidi told him. "He has been to Ahm Shere, leading the Creature to his doom."

The German did not recognize the remark about the Creature. He leaned down, tapping Alex with his cane. "Have you been to Ahm Shere?"

"What's it to you?" the boy slurred as two soldiers dragged him to his feet. "Damn Nazi."

The officer struck the boy then, a backhand that snapped the boy's head to the side and dropped him unconscious, held up only by the two soldiers. "Put him in the car." He limped along behind, turning only as he was about to step into the vehicle. "Kill them," he ordered as he got in and closed the door.

"Down!" I shoved those around me to the ground as the soldiers obeyed the order. My warriors ran out of the shadows of the tents then, steel against bullets at close quarters. Only the lead car and one truck escaped.

Naima came to lead me to her brother Nazir. He was shot, but not fatally, unlike the foolish Rashidi who lay in a pool of his own blood, a puzzled look on his face as he stared at his hands, red with that blood. He looked to me, bewildered. "I did what they asked … why?" he asked, the breath passing from him. Unless Alex O'Connell was rescued, I would never know what insanity took my nephew.

Wailing arose from our women, letting me know that there were more dead. I would know who before I left to pursue the Germans. I had not helped save Alex only to let the Germans take him from his parents now. Still I wondered, what could the Germans want at Ahm Shere? The Oasis was gone, devoured by the magic that held it for so long when O'Connell defeated the Scorpion King and the Creature fell into the underworld. It was the will of the ancient gods ... or Allah ... that the Creature, living as he was, finally went to his death; or so I believed.

Could I be wrong about the Creature? Or did the Germans believe that an artifact lay there to be collected by them. There were rumors out of Cairo that the Germans scoured the desert for more than water and oil buried beneath the sand. It did not yet occur to me that the massacre at the wadi and this attack on my tribe were connected.

The Germans were gone perhaps ten minutes before I knew the extent of the damage and mounted the truck left behind to follow them. I had watched O'Connell and his brother in law drive when we were in England and Cairo. How hard could it be to emulate them?

The sound of the engine told me that driving was more difficult than I supposed. It was too late to return for a horse, so I continued forward, praying for some indication that the Germans were not too far ahead of me. Deliverance appeared before me in the shape of two of the Americans from Hamunaptra.

"Do you know how to drive?" the Englishman yelled over the escalating sound of the engine.

I was honest and turned the beast over to him to continue our pursuit of the Germans.


	16. Chapter 16

Cheri

I was having dinner with the Captain when Lt. Annoying Gruber returned from wherever he had gone. For a man with a spiral fractured femur, he was getting around very well. Much better than he should have been. He strutted into the room, a couple of his followers dragging something in behind him. They tossed the baggage onto the floor beside the table and it resolved into a disheveled young man of 17 or 18, unconscious and bruised across the side of his face.

"Hauptman Dietrich, I bring you the map to Ahm Shere." The Lt. threw me a venomous look. "This one has been to the oasis we seek, Hauptman. We no longer need the Juden to lead us."

When did I get to be Jewish? From the look on Dietrich's face, he was wondering the same thing as he nodded to acknowledge the Gruber's present. "Two maps are better than one," he said. "That way neither is tempted to lie to me."

Damn, he was serene and glib. The map on the floor groaned and started to come around. Gruber grabbed him by the hair and pulled the boy to his feet eliciting an attempt at fight from the young man. You hear about things being shaken like a rat, that pretty much described what Gruber did to the young man. He vomited on his tormentor who then tossed the boy across the room with a bellow of anger.

The Lt.'s gun was out and he had the trigger half pulled before Dietrich could react. I was faster, knocking the gun out of his hand. Without the gun, Lt. Annoying could focus both hands on strangling me while hurling a string of inappropriate epithets at me. At least, I thought they were inappropriate since they all related to my being a Jewess and how horribly corrupting my Jewishness was.

The Captain roared an order to his men and several rifle bolts being slammed into position disrupted Gruber's diatribe. He loosened his grip slightly as he turned his attention to Captain Dietrich. The latter ordered him to release me and remove himself from the room.

My butt hit the floor and I scuttled backwards away from the man who now turned on his commanding officer with a glint in his eye that did not bode well for anyone it lit on. He went from yelling epithets and accusations in German to mouthing a sibilant language that evoked immediate action from me. Before he could get much more than the first sentence of a chant I recognized out of his mouth, I borrowed a pistol from one of the stunned soldiers and put six shots closely clustered into the side of his head. Lugers have eight or nine shots. I put the rest of them into his face as he turned toward me. It shut him up, no longer having a face to work with, but it didn't stop him.

The sweep of a blade of ancient design removed the bullet riddled head. The body stopped, fell to its knees and then full out onto the floor where it rapidly began to decompose into a noxious liquid. Several of the soldiers voided their dinners.

"Hauptman Dietrich, I think we need to switch venues ... outside would be good." Suiting action to words, I got to my feet, nodding to my rescuer, and helped the young man to his feet, supporting him out of the area. I could hear the so dear Captain of the German force giving orders to clean up the mess. Personally, I thought a match and some kerosene would do a great job, but it might take out the building as well. Destroying ancient monuments tended to make the people to whom they belong very angry.

The man with the blade, kept it in his hand as he covered our strategic withdrawal outside. I really had not expected to see tall, dark and tattooed again. As we stepped out into the night, he took charge of the boy who was not doing well given the beating he'd apparently suffered and the shaking. I finally met the questioning gaze of Ardeth Bey and wondered just what I could safely tell him. And possibly what he knew already.

Given the intelligence in his quick dark eyes, I suspected he knew a great deal more than I did about a great many things. Drives me crazy when I can't ask questions. We were joined by Captain Dietrich who scowled at the man in black robes. I introduced them. "Ardeth Bay, leader of the Medjai, Captain Hans Dietrich of the German Army."

The Captain did not look as though he recognized the term Medjai. "How did you get past my guards?"

Ardeth looked mildly surprised. "I followed your trucks to retrieve my young friend here. I am responsible for him until he returns to his parents."

"Indeed."

The Captain accompanied us back to my tent where we put Alex to bed so I could tend to his damage.


	17. Chapter 17

Dietrich

I am beginning to regret bringing the woman with me, but not as much as I regret allowing Lt. Erik Gruber to come on this mission. The woman admits to knowing the route to Ahm Shere. Whether she does or not, I am in need of her knowledge.

Gruber is dead. Whatever he had become, he was not the man I had known. The accusations of being Jewish he threw at Miss Yuconovich were ridiculous and unfounded, sounding more like he had become a propoganda machine to spew such vitriol instead of the man I met in Germany. There are other things I do not understand about what happened. He was shot by the woman with a gun taken from one of my soldiers. There was nothing strange or different about it, yet Gruber decomposed as though he had been sprayed with some major corrosive. No human could decompose as quickly as he did. Nothing ... human ... could have continued moving after having six shots planted in the side of its head and then more shots in the face, obliterating mouth, nose and one eye. Still the body moved toward the woman, as though drawn by a magnet. Only beheading stopped Gruber from moving long after his brain ceased to function.

I have a great fear that Ahm Shere will not be the resting place of the artifact the Furher seeks, but something very different. I cannot report what I have seen here and my men will have to be sworn to silence. I do not pretend to understand what has happened here, but I have no intention of having my command removed due to whatever charges those in Berlin could trump up should I report what I have seen. I will see to it that my men are sworn to secrecy, some new weapon being tested that drove Gruber mad. That story will have to suffice.

Then there is the matter of the Arab who arrived just in time to remove Eric's head. I do not know who he is aside from Dr. Yuconovich's introduction, nor do I know how he entered our area so easily. Once I have spoken with him, I will see to the young man Eric brought in. He is barely old enough to be in the army, which makes it unlikely he is a spy for the Allies. If he has indeed been to Ahm Shere, he can lead us there and we can let Dr. Yuconovich go. She is far too disruptive an influence to keep with us, although I do not see her as a threat to my mission.

Dr Yuconovich is very lovely, but I have no need to saddle this mission with a woman, especially a beautiful one. Then again, I do not wish to leave her with the Arabs here. They are wholly barbaric in their attitudes toward women. This Bey fellow seems more cultured. Perhaps I can leave her with him. Unless he becomes difficult about the boy. We will see what happens.


	18. Chapter 18

Alex

I woke up to find a strange woman with the brightest green eyes bending over me. She was dressed in robes like an Arabian girl, but no woman out here ever had eyes that color. She smiled and pressed a cool cloth to the side of my head where I could feel a major bruise. "Glad to see you're awake. You have a friend waiting to see you." She nodded to where Ardeth stood at the opening of the tent.

Noticing that I was awake, he came over and knelt by the cot. There was anger and sorrow in his gaze. What the hell had I done now? I remembered Rashidi coming at me and then some huge, ham handed fellow in a German uniform hitting me.

"I am sorry, son of my friend. I was unaware of the madness that had taken Rashidi. Had I realized, you would not now be here."

"Where's here?" I had vague memories of soldiers and a noxious stench.

"You are a guest of the Third Reich," the woman answered dryly. "Apparently, someone thinks you have a map to Ahm Shere tucked in there." She gestured to my head. I noticed her hands were long fingered and elegant.

"Ahm Shere? What's Ahm Shere?" I tried my best to sound like my Uncle Jonathan when lying to my father and mother. Maybe that wasn't the best idea.

Laughter lit her eyes. "The Oasis where the Scorpion King awaited someone to take the hordes of Anubis from him," she answered. Damn. She knew.

"Sounds fascinating," I said, hoping that Ardeth's devastating talent for being honest would take a back seat to my need to not go back there.

"There is nothing at Ahm Shere." So much for my hopes. "The ancient oasis is long gone, destroyed many years ago."

"I know," she agreed. "But that does not stop Hitler from digging for things he believes will give him power. He wishes to rule the world, but also to remake it in the image he sees as fit. There is little place for anyone not of what he calls Aryan stock in his world, regardless of his own inability to fit that vision. What could he think is at Ahm Shere that would be of use to him?"

"The Book of the Dead?" Ardeth and I said together and then looked at each other oddly.

"The Book of the Dead? The one that Imhotep tried to use to bring back his beloved?" she asked.

Ardeth looked distinctly less than happy about that question. She didn't look enthusiastic about it either. Not good.

"Uh ... not to be ungrateful for the help," I gestured to my head. "But who are you?" She definitely knew more about Ahm Shere and other things than she should have.

"Cheri Yuconovich, Dr. of Archaeology, general all around good person to have working with you in a pinch, occasional co-ordinator of a trouble shooting organization we sometimes refer to with laughter as Heroes for Hire. Right now, I suspect I'd like to get the two of you out of here and away from the Germans."

Ardeth nodded. "Away would be good. But if they go to the place Ahm Shere was, there might be ... "

"There's a possibility that in spite of what happened, they could find what they were looking for?" Cheri finished for him.

"Or worse."

Gotta love that guy, always looking on the bright side.


	19. Chapter 19

Moffitt

Pettigrew and I followed the trail of the German who left with the trucks full of soldiers. They were headed somewhere and Troy was concerned that Dietrich was up to something with this split of his forces. The small convoy headed out to the North, then back East toward the river before making a turn into a well camouflaged canyon.

Aside from the woman, we'd thought none of Dietrich's men were familiar with the area. We hung back, suspecting a trap. The noise of their engines died in the distance, but just as we were preparing to follow again, there was the sound of muffled gunfire. Tully and I were on the move when we heard engines again, heading toward us. The staff car and one truck barreled out of the canyon, passing and ignoring us, if they even saw the jeep.

As the truck blew past us, one soldier fell from the back, obviously dead. We could see others were wounded. Either the drivers did not see us, or they had more important things on their minds. The scream of a tortured transmission drew our attention as a second truck raced out of the darkness into full moonlight. This vehicle narrowly missed us. I caught a glimpse of the driver, black hair blowing wildly about a tattooed face.

"Ardeth Bey?" Tully and I voiced together.

"Does he know how to drive?" Tully yelled as we pulled in behind the truck, sand fountaining up around our tires. The transmission on the truck seemed stuck in first gear. Tully brought the front of our jeep up to the back of the truck. That left me to make the jump from the bonnet of our vehicle into the cargo area of the truck. Carefully, I made my way forward until I could slide through the open window and into the passenger seat.

"Bey? What ...?"

"They have taken the son of O'Connell!" he yelled over the engine noise.

"Do you drive?"

"No!" he admitted freely.

"I do. Take your foot off the pedal."

He did so, slowing the truck tremendously. It rolled to a stop, jumping as the engine stalled and quit. "It died!" He sounded annoyed and worried.

"I'll take it from here." I motioned for him to get out. The vehicle would get us into Dietrich's camp. Bey nodded, jumped down and moved to the back where he climbed back aboard, concealing himself neatly. Tully joined me in the cab. We would retrieve the jeep later. The engine turned over and we soon caught up to the other two vehicles. No one stopped us or questioned our presence as we drove into the German camp. Once there, we parked with the other trucks. Bey dropped out of the back and disappeared into the darkness before I could stop him.

The big Lieutenant dropped to the sand from the car, hauling a slightly built young man out of the staff car, tossing him over his shoulder and strode toward a large tent pitched in the entrance to the temple. He moved with incredible alacrity considering the cast on his leg.

"Dietrich?" Tully asked.

Surmising that he wished to locate the Captain who headed the expedition, I agreed and we worked our way over toward the unguarded entrance. As we slipped inside, we could hear the word Juden being tossed about rather freely. I saw the woman Cheri look puzzled as did Hauptmann Dietrich sitting beside her. The situation deteriorated from there, ending with Cheri emptying a pistol into the man's face and Ardeth Bey lopping off his head when the bullets seemed to be ineffective in killing the Lieutenant. The body then dissolved into a large pool of noisome goo. In the confusion, we slipped out again before the Hauptmann could spot us.

Dietrich, Cheri, Bey and the half conscious boy exited as well, Dietrich shouting orders; Cheri leading Bey to another tent. We took refuge in the truck to wait. We were in. Dietrich had Bey, the boy and Cheri; or so it seemed. If we were lucky, Tully and I could simply continue with the Germans as they went to Ahm Shere.


	20. Chapter 20

Cheri

It occurred to me that the dear Hauptman had no clue what we were headed into and exactly why. He really did not seem the type to be deeply embroiled in supernatural chicanery.

"Hauptman."

Dietrich turned to look at me. I could see he was not happy to see me. His dark eyes traveled up and down before he settled on meeting my gaze and an incline of his head.

"Why do you seek the Oasis at Ahm Shere?"

"You were sent to guide me there, should you not already know that answer?"

Laughter. "Had I been sent by Berlin to do so, probably. I wasn't. Like Alex O'Connell, I happen to know where the Oasis was." That got his attention.

"Was?"

"Yeah. Was. Alex O'Connell was eight when he took a seven day journey from London to Ahm Shere led by the visions granted by the armband given to the Scorpion King by the god Anubis. I know, for most of us, the Egyptian pantheon is mythology, not reality. Suffice it to say there was a bracer style arm band Alex put on and it provided the map to the Oasis."

"Then I hardly need both of you to provide guidance, do I?"

I looked around. "Planning on abandoning me, or just putting a bullet in my brain." We were miles from any human habitation or outpost, although we were getting close to the Blue Nile. Luckily, my dear Hauptman Dietrich was not SS, he was German Army. The idea of simply killing me when he had no real reason to do so did not sit well with him.

"Very well, you will answer for the behavior of the young O'Connell and the Bedouin. Any indication that you have betrayed us and I will have no alternative but to dispose of you. All of you."

"OK. When we get to the river, head south." He was thinking, not something he really wanted to do right now … well, not beyond the physical issue of getting to the Oasis. "Do you believe in magic? In the supernatural?"

His answer was to glare at me. Hauptman Hans Dietrich was a down to earth German Army officer, he was not interested in the things that the current High Command sought. Pity he was so deeply involved in this mission.


	21. Chapter 21

Dietrich

The woman's voice was low pitched as she asked her question. Did I believe in magic? The supernatural? Stupid question. Yet there was something strange in our mission. Lt. Gruber dissolved when the Bedouin killed him. I had no explanation for that.

"No."

"Yet Hitler does. He collects items of legendary power to the Reich. What does he seek at Ahm Shere?" she asked again.

"A key." At least, that was what I had been told.

"What sort of key? The bracer was a key that released the Scorpion King. Imhotep was stripped of his magic to fight the trapped and transformed ancient king, but it was Alex's father who destroyed the thing, dropping Imhotep into … well … a form of hell, I guess."

She didn't look particularly insane, but this was the stuff of mythology. "You speak as though you believe in this. Who is this Imhotep?"

She chuckled as I asked. "I forget which Ramses he was attached to. Imhotep, High Priest of Amon-Ra and cuckolder of Pharoah … not a good combination. When the girlfriend committed suicide, after helping kill Ramses, the idea was to resurrect her using the Book of the Dead. Instead Imhotep was caught, incarcerated, alive, victim of the Hom Dei curse … which pretty much managed to victimize everyone. Stupid curse." She paused before continuing with what seemed a most familiar story to her. "The Pharoh's guards spent three thousand years, multiple generations, keeping Imhotep from being brought back. Twenty years ago Alex's father, mother and a party of Americans went to Hamunaptra; broke the seals, dug up the bad guy and read from the Book of the Dead while doing so."

"You believe this … American tall tale?" It sounded like one of those movies the Americans make where the villain is both evil and understandable.  
She took a breath and looked at me as though deciding exactly what to tell me. I believe she settled for honesty, however much it seemed unrealistic. "Actually, yeah. The Medjai with Alex was there. Alex was there for the battle at Ahm Shere. And I got the story from the horse's mouth, so to speak, one Rick O'Connell." A smile curved her lips at the thought of the man. "Ardeth Bey is a direct line descendant of the Pharonic guards set to watch for the return of Imhotep. Of course, I've seen stranger things in my breakfast cereal than a cursed mummy with sorcerer's capabilities. Your Lt. that disolved, for one. Of course, there's also the problem that Ahm Shere ceased to exist, so I'm wondering exactly what your Lt. was up to."

Ceased to exist? How could an oasis cease to … of course, the water dried up. Whatever source fed the area must have subsided. Yet the construction should still stand and whatever we were to locate and bring back should still be there unless the place had been looted. Still, an oasis would be easier to find than mudbrick … I felt the beginnings of a headache that was not heat induced.

"We will continue on until we find out what is at the oasis, whether there is still water there or not. Ruins are what we are expecting."

"And if there aren't any ruins, but only sand?"

"Then we will dig." They would dig until it became obvious that there was nothing to be found. On one level, he hoped she was right, that whatever the High Command sought was long gone. On another, he hated being sent on wild goose chases.


	22. Chapter 22

Tully

Morning arrives with a lot of activity. The Sargent and I lay low, keeping tabs on the truck we showed up in and an eye out for Bey and the lady. We grab breakfast and then Bey and the kid come out escorted by Dietrich and Dr. Yuconovich. They all pile into Dietrich's staff car, nice and cosy. Whaddaya know.

This is gonna be one tale Hitch is gonna have trouble toppin'. The Sarge and me pulled the truck into line at the rear of the convoy. We just follow along with the stuff that got loaded. We're all wearin' sand colored uniforms and the Sarge grabbed us a couple of caps so we ain't as obvious as we could be.

Still, this trip's got me worried. Something's up. Rumor has it the big guy who grabbed the kid disolved when he was killed, like someone hit him with acid. Little worried Dietrich will spot us at some point, but he's got bigger things on his mind right now. The Sarge thinks there's something really big wherever we're going. Something we need to keep the Jerries from getting. Right now, I'm just along for the ride.

Hope Troy's followin' us close enough to get us out when things blow.


	23. Chapter 23

Troy

Hitch and I took turns watching the German camp at Karnak. We were surprised when Moffitt contacted us quietly to tell us he and Tully were in the camp along with Bey and some kid the Germans picked up. He says Dr. Yuconovich is working to keep the boy alive. Seems he knows where we're headed better than she and Dietrich do.

Damn.

Moffitt and Tully are traveling with the German convoy to who knows where. We're traveling deeper into lower Egypt and they're out of radio contact until we join up again. I don't like this, but whatever Dietrich's up to, we need to stop him. Headquarters is content to have us trail the convoy until we know more about what's going on.

I wish we were in contact. Maybe they'll find a way. Hitch is following me in the other jeep. Time will tell. Still getting creepy feelings about this. Wish Moffitt was here to make it all seem normal, or to tell me he knows a wadi or a ruin or a village nearby to get supplies or news. As annoying as his knowledge can be sometimes, it always makes things work out better.

Hitch says we're heading in the general direction of the Blue Nile and that there's nothing on the map to indicate towns, ruins or much of anything but deeper desert. The Blue Nile runs through canyons like the Colorado River back home. This could get interesting.


	24. Chapter 24

Cheri

Another day on the road in the sun. That's pretty much what every day is gong to be like until we get to the Blue Nile, I think. While I like deserts, I live in one, but not quite as sandy as the Sahara. Bey is getting nervous. Part of it is traveling with the Germans in a vehicle. He'd rather be on a horse or in a dirigible. That was an odd admission on his part, the dirigible. Apparently, that's how he and the O'Connells traveled the last time he did this.

Bey and Alex are keeping to themselves as much as possible, only confirming what I tell the Hauptman. With three sets of mental maps, Dietrich's happy to keep things triangulated. Poor man, he hates having me along but he's decent enough he won't just chuck me out. Doesn't have a clue that I could probably survive as well or better than the Medjai out here. I know things even they don't. At least, I think I do.

Soon enough we'll reach the narrow sandstone gorges of the Blue Nile. I'm not sure how well the vehicles will handle the area, how deep the sand is on the banks of the river and whether the trucks will be narrow enough to make it through. If they follow the train line as the last seekers had, it would take them close to the place and they could make it on foot from there. The closer we get, the more scared I'm getting.

Bey and I have discussed what we are likely to find in the sand. Whether the Book of the Dead is even findable. According to both O'Connell, there was an open pit of natron or something that it fell into. The book sank, the oasis sucked back into wherever it came from. There should be nothing but sand at Ahm Shere; even pinpointing where the great pyramid stood should be impossible. Still, given what Rick O'Connell told me, there was an opening to the Egyptian afterlife, a rift beneath the pyramid base, where Imhotep disappeared, dragged down by the hands of those already there. The afterlife of Egypt? Hell as we consider it? Some alternate dimension? He didn't know, only that Evie saved him and Meela/Anksunamum ran from the place, terrified of dying herself.

It gives one a lot to think about. I've seen Sgt. Moffitt and his driver a couple of times, lurking around one of the trucks. If they are with us, their companions are probably following as well. I'll have to see if I can grab one of them to find out what they're doing and whether we can work together. Not that they'll be too happy to see me, of course.

Alex is holding up well. But Bey and I both sense something … wrong the closer we get to the German's destination. The Lt. who died was not human. Or no longer human. I've seen that happen before and I really do not want to complete this journey. But I don't want Bey and the kid left at the mercy of whatever is out there either. They may be able to handle three thousand year old mummies, but this is not of Egypt; old or new kingdom, or modern day. And it is not of Germany … I am terrified of what we will find. I pray to gods I don't believe in that it will be nothing, and know that they are ignoring me.

Maybe I can just kill whatever it is. I'm really good at killing things.


	25. Chapter 25

Ardeth

I am not pleased with the German leader, this Hauptman Dietrich. He insists that Alex continue the journey to Ahm Shere with the troops. This is a bad idea. There is nothing at Ahm Shere but sand and death. I find myself echoing O'Connell's comment on Hamunaptra. Still, the German has not offered harm to the young man, nor has he treated me with the contempt so many of his people feel for the "non-Aryan", whatever that is.  
The woman is troubled by something. She speaks of the massacre at a wadi the day we met at Hamunaptra. All the females were taken, and not just the women, but the animals as well. I agree that this is disturbing, and that there is a small probability that slavers took the women and animals, especially when she says even tiny children were taken. There is something going on here I do not understand. I worry for my people, but not as much as for the Germans who stride ahead as though there is nothing wrong here.

I have seen the English Sgt. two or three times since I became a part of this journey. He and the younger warrior have hidden themselves in the trucks as drivers. I suspect the other two follow us. I do not wish to become a part of this war, it is not for us. But whatever we travel to, that may need the attention of my people. The wind shifts the sands around us in complicated patterns I do not understand. A falcon flies overhead now and again. Abdul and his men follow us.

As I continued to observe the drive, as boring as it has become, I am aware of the woman watching me. She smiles. There is much I would know about her, yet there is something old in her eyes when I look at her. There is age where there should not be.

She leaned toward me. "I worry you." It was a statement, not a question. "I probably should," she continued. "There is something very wrong out here," she confirmed my own feelings. "I don't know what yet, but I've seen the kind of thing that happened to Gruber before and it's not good."  
"You do not tell the German this?" I did not understand how she would not warn him.

"He wouldn't believe me. Our Hauptman Dietrich is very much grounded in science and the real, he has no patience with the occultist endeavors of his leader. He will follow orders to find and deliver, but he believes in the military and in weapons, strategy, numbers. What we may find at Ahm Shere will try his beliefs and possibly his sanity."

"There is nothing at Ahm Shere," I reminded her.

"Still, it is a place of power. O'Connell spoke of a rip between here and the Egyptian afterlife? An opening seething with souls of the damned. Or at least, souls."

"Yet you tell me O'Connell would not know you if I asked," I pursued my need to understand where she came into this.

She chuckled at that. "O'Connell hasn't met me yet," she replied cryptically. "It's … complicated. But truly, your people have nothing to fear from me. Whatever brought me here … it's a problem to be solved. I'm good at that."

We both caught the German frowning at us as he motioned for the convoy to take a rest stop. He dropped from his own car and walked to ours as the vehicles came to rest. "And what is so interesting that you discuss it among yourselves?" he asked as he stepped onto the running board.

"Ahm Shere, Hauptman Dietrich. Ahm Shere," the woman answered him with a smile.

"Comparing stories?" There was suspicion in his question.

"Why, Hauptman, it sounds like you don't trust us," she shot back with deceptive mildness. "Are we not allowed to compare our knowledge?"  
"It occurs to me that there may be reasons for you to want to deceive me."

"Hauptman, the one thing the two of us are agreed on is that there is nothing at Ahm Shere. The Blue Nile is there as a water source for anyone, so that is not an issue. Whatever you seek at the vanished oasis … well, that remains to be seen whether it is a problem for the Reich to have it or not; presuming you find whatever it is. Bey watched the destruction of the oaisis as did Mr. O'Connell and his parents. Whatever you may think of the rest of the tale, the destruction is the one thing they all agree about."

"Yes, I have seen the reports. Superstitious nonsense. A pyramid cannot implode. A sandstorm, or several, may have buried the site, but that does not make it nonexistant. We will see when we arrive. It would be wise not to lie to me," he admonished before dropping off the vehicle and heading for the rest of the convoy to oversee the camp set up.

"Fuck," she said distinctly. For a moment she sagged into her seat looking ancient and timeless. Her eyes caught mine and she straightened.   
"Well, I've been in worse positions. We'll manage. Should we wake the boy or let him sleep?"


	26. Chapter 26

Alex

Ardeth and Cheri think I'm asleep. They're talking. I'm worrying. The German Captain wouldn't let me and Ardeth go back to the Medjai camp. He wants us along to verify what Cheri tells him. Not a lot of trust running around here. Wish Mom and Dad were here. My Dad would Kick His Ass … I probably need to learn how to do that. Mom won't appreciate it, but Dad … I think he'd be proud if I could do so.

I'm worried about Ahm Shere. The last time I was there, Mum died. I almost died. Dad almost died. If it weren't for the Book of the Dead I'd have lost my Mum forever. Without my Mum, my Dad and I would never have gotten out of there. My uncle saved my Mum and she came went to save my Dad. The book was lost as they fled the destruction.

It's funny, I think if we lost my Dad, Mum would go on. She'd be devastated, but she'd go on. Because of me and because of Uncle Jonathan. She'd want to take care of us. But Dad … as much as I mean to him, Mum's his life. He came apart when she died, something in him died too until she was back.

There can't be anything at Ahm Shere. It's all gone. It has to be. But the Germans think there's something there. And I'm scared. I know Ardeth would die rather than let anything happen to me. He'll certainly kill. But Dr. Yuconovich is an unknown. She knows about the oaisis, she knows what happened to us there, she keeps trying to head the Germans off but it's not working. I can see her worry.  
I've got a bad feeling about this.


	27. Chapter 27

Troy

Following the Jerries is grueling. Hitch and I have to keep out of sight and far enough behind we don't get spotted. Hitch says there's water ahead. We've left the desert we know heading south and east into the Sudan. If Moffitt wasn't leaving drops of food and water for us we'd have had to turn back days ago. If he gets caught, we're in trouble. All right, if he gets caught, we're all in trouble.

Hitch says the Blue Nile isn't far from where we are now and the maps we have agree with him. We're getting close to this place the Jerries are looking for. Another couple of days and we should be there. Question is, what do we done once we arrive? What are they looking for? What could bring Dietrich and his men so far away from the war?

Hitch has a theory that they're looking for something powerful, like the Spear of Destiny. I hate having to ask what he's talking about. He says Hitler believes he has possession of the blade of the spear that pierced the side of Christ when he was crucified. Bunkum. But it's well known that the German High Command has collected all kinds of religious artifacts everywhere they've gone and places they aren't yet. So, if they're out to collect an artifact, from a place that doesn't exist, I guess it's up to us to stop them.


	28. Chapter 28

Troy

We've hit the canyons of the Blue Nile. It's getting harder to hide from the Jerry's. Dietrich's no fool. This place is eerie. The water is really blue, thus the name, I presume. The canyons are incredible. I may have to go see the Grand Canyon when the war is over.

I'm going to try to get in touch with Moffitt and Tully, get them out of the convoy before Dietrich finds them. I'm surprised the man hasn't seen the two of them yet. Tonight I'll see if I can get to them. Maybe they can tell me why the convoy seems tense, even from a distance. Maybe it's just the echo effect of the stone and water.

Hitch is quieter than usual. I think this entire mission is getting under all our skins. Give me something I can shoot and be done with it.

 

Hitch

The Sarge is running nervous. We both are. The longer Sgt. Moffitt and Tully stay with the Germans, the more likely they are to be noticed. I'm worried. That Jerry Captain could shoot them as spies. Maybe he knows they're there and is just playing along to lure us in. Too many things can go wrong the longer we're out here.

The canyons are weird, the sky mirrored in the clear water below. The river's not all that deep here, just really pristine and untouched. It's like we're in another age. I just hope we get to the place and get things over with soon.


	29. Chapter 29

Dietrich

The river is beautiful, clean, clear, not too deep here. It is amazing that it becomes a part of the river further north; wide and placid as the silt builds up. The canyons are interesting, the water has cut fantastic shapes and channels over the millenia. The woman tells me we are getting close to the headwaters, but also to where the oasis once stood. We are far deeper into the continent than I am comfortable being. Too far away from the front.

Noise carries in the canyons, but it also distorts. Troy and his men are following me. I have not seen them, but I cannot doubt that the Allies are close by. Still, I see no reason to send my men after them. They are as cut off as we are, more as they have little room for supplies on their vehicles.

The further we go through the canyons, the more disquieting it is. I see no fish in the crystalline waters, no life. There is some vegetation this close to the river, but no birds, nothing else; just us.

"A penny for your thoughts." Cheri's voice cut through my considerations. She smiled as I looked over at her. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Hardly. I find the lack of fish difficult to understand."

"What?" she asked with a laugh. "The lack of …" She turned to look at the river. "Damn. You're right. Crystal clear water and not a fish in sight. Of course, there aren't any crocs or snakes or anything else. Any ideas?" She asked the Bedouin in his own language.

"About?"

"Fish … or rather the lack of them in the water."

He shook his head. "The Creature used his magic to create a great wave to destroy us. I don't remember any fish then either."

"He doesn't remember fish the last time he passed this way," she translated for me.

"None?"

"Well, not that he recalls. But then, they were concentrated on Alex and retrieving him from his kidnappers rather than documenting the fauna of the river. They might just have missed them, I suppose."

Yet her look said she didn't think so, that even then the river was barren. Still, the water tasted fresh and clean. I reminded my men to use the anti-bacterial tablets to clean the water before drinking it. It would not do to come down with dysentery or intestinal parasites because we did not use the proper precautions.

In spite of their beauty, I will be glad to see an end to the canyons. As we come closer to our destination, we are all becoming more tense. I am not a superstitious man, but I begin to see how legends could grow in this area.


	30. Chapter 30

Cheri

The Captain is right, the canyons are creepy. The stone is beautiful, but the birds and lizards and things that you find in the Grand Canyon in the U.S. are lacking. OK, the canyons on the Blue Nile are narrower, but still, Dietrich's right, fish. There aren't any. Ardeth isn't certain there were any when Alec was kidnapped either. Which is strange, because the Nile to the north has lots of fish and crocs and all sorts of stuff living in it. I can't wait until we get out of this area.

Having thought about that thought, maybe I can … Wait to get out of the river area. Because when we get out of here, we'll be pretty much where the oasis was and the Hauptmann is going to be mad because there isn't an oasis any more, just like we've been telling him. Shit. Could I go home please? I waited for a few moments and realized my heartfelt plea was once again going completely unnoticed by the powers that be in the universe.

Alex is catching a few winks while we travel. Dietrich is thinking, which is probably a bad thing on some level. Bey is observing. He does a lot of that. I think we're getting to the exit where Ahm Shere used to be. Great place for an ambush.

Was that something on the edge of the cliff? Oh hell, looks like we've got company. There are black robed figures swarming down ropes from the tops of the cliffs.

"Hauptman! Company … not yours, I presume?" The men coming down the water carved rock wearing cloaks and masks, carrying swords and daggers and looking swarthy and cultist like ... Swords and daggers? Are they kidding? Damn, apparently not. The Germans taken by surprise are not doing well against the cultists. Fuck. Cultists? What is it with the universe and throwing cultists at me?

I am so not going to enjoy this. Although, this does not look like the sort of area I'd normally expect to find the kind of cultist I usually have to dispatch to keep them from killing people around me.

The driver skidded our vehicle to a halt just short of running over a half dozen of the ragged crew with very sharp blades we were facing. Dietrich reached for his gun, but not quickly enough. The Germans were hauled out of their vehicles, including the Hauptman, Bey, Alex and myself. I caught a glimpse of Moffitt and Pvt. Pettigrew attempting to skulk off. Not fast enough either.

I hate cultists.

The leader of the group came to look us over. A smell like week long dead fish rolled off of him. I was glad he kept his hood up. I really didn't want to see a Deep One staring at me. He grabbed me by the arm and yanked me forward. Great, I'm about to be fondled by a Deep One … only he didn't.

"Thiss iss an elder. Take her. Kill the rest."

"I don't think so." Well, I had to do something since the only live human (Yeah, I was considering that these things were probably not completely human any more) they were going to keep was me. He hissed at me. "So what? These people are mine. Keep your hands off them."

"You dare! Ssssacrifissse … you do not order here."

"Ta thanee, ma kildne profedierat. Cthulu ftagn." Damn, that hurt my throat, but then it always does. Having been the object of several cultists who wanted to sacrifice me to open dimensional gates, I was armed with gibberish statements. He recoiled, then bowed practically double before gesturing to his followers to hustle us out of the canyon and into the desert where something ancient and evil rose from the sands. Not the pyramid some expected, but rough hewn stones standing three stories tall surrounded by a dank swampy area. How the hell did they manage a swamp and a chacmool style altar in the middle of the desert.

I heard soft sobbing and wailing from an enclosure not far away, the bleating of goats and the howl of a couple of dogs, not to mention the cries of hungry babies. That explained where the females of the Bedouin encampment were. We were hustled to a second enclosure, shoved in and the gate locked behind us. Now Dietrich spots Moffitt. Somebody shoot me.


	31. Chapter 31

Moffitt

What I thought were Arabs came pouring down the cliffs, swarming the convoy. Then the stench caught me as Tully and I tried to sneak off. There was no reason to give the natives more to think about than they already had with the Germans. That did not work. We were herded together with the disarmed German troops.

You hear about blood running cold, but in battle you're more likely to be hot and adrenalin filled. The leader gave the order to take the woman, Cheri, and kill everyone else. Her objections met with the expected reaction until she spoke in some incomprehensible language. I shivered. The words were gibberish to me, but I could sense the effect they were having on our captors. When their leader bowed and agreed to take us with them, I wanted out of there as I had never done even when I was captured and beaten to extort information from me.

Tully stuck close to me. I knew he probably had a hidden weapon or two on him. As soon as we had a moment together away from the robed and hooded people, we would figure out a way to get out … or get word to Troy to come break this mess up and get us.

Tully met my eyes as we were marched through a short pass to the left of the canyon system and into the desert. Colder and colder. My steps faltered. I had never seen such a thing in the desert. Standing stones so ancient as to be moss and lichen covered. A huge lintel, a doorway, set just behind what looked like a hideously carved chacmool; a South American sacrificial altar, usually in the shape of a man holding a basin or platform on his belly. Whatever the original of the thing was, it was not a man. The carving practically writhed in the sunlight.

"Hey, Sarge. You OK?" Tully asked softly. His German was not strong enough to carry off among native speakers for any time.

"Fine. Later." For now, we moved with the rest toward whatever awaited. Which turned out to be a holding pen of sorts. It was then I realized we were solving the mystery of what happened to the women of the Bedouin camp we'd found massacred. This could not be good.


	32. Chapter 32

Alex

I was jerked away as the car stopped. Sleepy, I couldn't tell what was happening. I thought we were under attack by Arabs until I caught the smell. Gag. Like fish rotting in the sun on a riverside quay. These people smelled horrible. I nearly lost what I'd eaten earlier. Then they gave the order to kill all of us. Ardeth tensed. I don't know what he could have done, but he would think of something.

Cheri became extremely creepy all of the sudden. The syllables coming from her seemed to echo in strange places in my mind. I tried to translate them, but couldn't. They made no sense, yet the leader of our captors bowed to her and agreed to take us along. What did she say? Who are these people?

As we left the canyons and walked into what had been the lush and deadly oasis at Ahm Shere, peopled by strange shrunken tribal hunters, I felt my mouth drop open in astonishment. It wasn't Stonehenge, but it was monolithic. Standing stones in Egypt where there are no such monuments. Egypt built and carved. These were rough standing saracen stones, only one set capped with a lintel. The ground was swampy beneath them and the sun seemed somehow weaker than it had in the canyon on the river.

I must have stopped walking, because Ardeth tugged at my arm, urging me forward before the robed men noticed me. We were in deep trouble and my dad and mum were no where in the area. I couldn't threaten them the way I had blustered at Imhotep. My Dad was not there to kick ass. My Uncle Johnathan was not around to shoot people and make bad jokes and try to steal treasures. My Mum wasn't around to reassure me, either. I had my Uncle Ardeth and Cheri. And maybe those guys in the jeeps … I caught sight of the English one reacting to the stones as well.

Hope. They say the young have lots of it. I swallowed hard and followed the Germans in front of me into the pen. Funny, that German Captain, Dietrich, he didn't like this one bit either and I don't think it's just the humiliation of being captured by the Wogs. Mum'll get mad if she hears me use that word. Maybe not, these guys aren't Arabs, whatever they are.

"Stay near me," Ardeth told me. His accented voice is comforting. He may not be my real uncle, but he's family for all that.


	33. Chapter 33

Ardeth

Alex is disturbed by the place we have come to. The oasis is gone. The pyramid is gone, as we knew. In its place is a dismal swamp with huge stones reaching to the sky and some sort of evil altar. The Creature was evil and powerful, but this place is more than he ever was. It was the curse that made him powerful … not the most wise action to be performed by my ancestors. This is … different. Even as the undead, as the walking evil, Imhotep was once human.

As we settled into our captivity, the German leader was approached by the British soldier who had helped me get into the camp to rescue Alex. Their confrontation was angry, the German throwing accusations until the woman broke them up. I do not think the German was used to being struck so by a woman. Her kick lifted him into the air and dropped him to the sand. She was equally short with the Englishman. I moved closer to hear her, pulling Alex with me.

"This is no time to do what your enemies want." She glared from one to the other. The Englishman lifted his hands in the sign of surrender, pointing out that he had only wanted to talk to the German, not start a fight.

The German picked himself up, dusting his pants and retrieving his hat. He looked murderous, but uncertain as to where to direct his anger. "There is nothing to talk about."

Cheri disagreed. "If you want to live, there is a lot to discuss and those … things … are not going to be listening. They believe they cannot be stopped so they will not even bother to post a guard." The Englishman and the German were both now looking at her. She took a breath and let it go. "Look, those … cultists are adherents to an ancient worship that predates almost everything we know now. They're not exactly sane. They believe that at certain times, when the stars and planets are aligned correctly, they can summon the ancient and powerful beings they worship. Grant them entry to our world."

The German made a dismissive noise. "Superstition."

"Spear of Destiny? Arc of the Covenant? Bracer of the Scorpion King?" she reminded him. "Regardless of reality, they intend to sacrifice all of the women they took from that camp. Goddess, all of them? Really?" She seemed to question her own conclusions. "No … One of them is important but they … don't know which one … We need a plan."

"What would you suggest?" The German walked the fine line between sarcasm and curiosity.

"A tank?" she shot back. "Oh, right, we didn't bring one."

"I might have an option," the British soldier offered quietly. "Troy is following the convoy. Neither of our vehicles were seen by your … cultists. If we can get someone out with word to him, they might be able to break things up long enough for us to get free."

"Viable. Who do we send?"

"The Sargent would not trust one of my men," the German offered grudgingly. Of course, he did not trust the Allies to rescue his men either.

"Then we send Alex," Cheri concluded.

"Wait, why me?" Alex semi-objected.

"Because you are small and unobtrusive and quick on your feet … not to mention quick thinking from what I've heard. Agreed? Find the Sargent with the jeeps and see what he can do. Roaring in here with a spew of sand and gunfire from one of those guns should make life interesting." She smiled at Alex then. "Agreed, gentlemen?"

The two nodded, although the German was obviously still not satisfied.


	34. Chapter 34

Troy

We were far enough behind we heard nothing when the Germans ran into trouble. The silence is getting to me. Looks like not a shot was fired and everyone is gone, including Moffitt and Tully. We followed the trail of the captives, I can't think of it as anything else, into a short canyon off to the side. The trail looks to go away from the river toward the desert beyond. Something odd is happening, it's dark at the other end and bright daylight over the river itself.

Hitch looks as worried as I feel. I can't get a sighting even with binoculars. We've moving slowly toward the exit.

"These footprints look strange," Hitch observed.

They did. Footprints in sand are difficult to identify at the best of times. The sand is churned where the Germans walked, but outside, there are strange, broad very flat strings of prints. The ball of the foot is disproportionately wide. We have no answers until we catch up.

The exit to the canyon is like day and night. Dark clouds roil overhead. The sand blows in the wind and half a mile away we can see something that no one has recorded in Africa before. I don't need Moffitt to tell me that what I'm looking at is out of place. I've been to Stonehenge in England. It's impressive, especially when you think it was set up 4000 years ago by people who had stone tipped spears and arrows. Like the pyramids, it's hard to figure what they were thinking to do something that crazy.

There's a henge, I think that's what they're called, or part of one, out in the desert. Movement out to one side of it tells me that's where the Germans are. I'm wondering how they were captured, in silence, with no one dieing. And where are Moffitt and Tully? Did Dietrich catch them or were they just rounded up with the rest of them?

We need to get closer to find out what's up. But there's no cover between the canyon and the … stones. Damn. This is not gonna be easy.  
We pull a couple of long cloaks out of the supplies. If we keep our heads down, maybe we can pass for desert dwellers lost in the storm. Hitch keeps eying the clouds that practically spin overhead. I get the feeling he's never seen anything like that in the desert either. I don't tend to spook easily, but those clouds and that batch of stones are urging me to act and get gone before something happens. I don't like the feeling. The sand actually has small dunes, we should have enough cover to get closer and figure out what's going on.


	35. Chapter 35

Hitch

Leaving the jeeps behind didn't feel right, but the Sarge knows we need to sneak up on the camp out there. I just hope it doesn't rain while we're headed out. The clouds are freakish, whirling while there's almost no wind down here.

We walked about a quarter mile to get closer and a better look at the stones. The sand is getting … wet? We crawled to the top of a dune and took a look. Where did a swamp come from? There's dark vegetation, water, and something moving in the water. It's dark down there, and it is down, like a circle was drawn and everything was set down inside it.

There's lots of movement. Lots of natives in cloaks and robes with hoods. Some of them look sick, they shuffle along, backs bent. I can hear dogs howling when they go near one of the palisades they've set up. The walls are tall enough we can't get a look in, but I'd bet one of the two holds the Germans and our guys.

A bunch of the robed men opened the gate into one of the structures. Several went in and then came out carrying someone. Long hair, slender, looks like the woman we met earlier. Her feet are dragging in the sand as they take her over to the other structure and literally toss her through the gate. I catch a glimpse of several other women inside. I guess that answers the question about what happened to the missing women from the camp we found.

We need to do something, but what?


	36. Chapter 36

Cheri

"I hate cultists. I hate cultists. I hate cultists." I really hate them when they smack me in the back of the head with something heavy, drag me off and toss me places like a sack of … something. Total assholes, they smell bad and they walk funny.

I opened my eyes to see a ring of faces, some veiled, some very young and a tongue. Gah! The dog licked me. She was a nice dog. I hate being licked. "Euw! Nice dog." I pushed her back and rolled over on my stomach because my head hurt. "Ow. Okay." Getting to my feet was fun, then a couple of the women came over to support me. Unfortunately, I did not understand their dialect. Communication zip.

"Sorry. I don't speak the language."

"You speak English?" one heavily accented voice asked. She was an older woman, frightened looking, but curious.

"Yes. You're all here? No one's been taken out?"

"Babies. Three of them have been taken. They did not come back," she told me, looking at a trio of women squatting at the edge of the enclosure, rocking. "They lost husbands and sons, now the babies …"

"Boys?"

Her eyes rounded. "How did you know?"

"It's ok. I'm not a part of it. I just don't know exactly how we're gonna stop them ..." And I didn't. Separated from the soldiers, I had no way of knowing whether they were going to get Alex out to find Troy and Pvt. Hitchcock. I didn't know when the alignment happened, how soon and exactly what they were going to do.

"What do they want? We know nothing. They came, they killed and took us. They have said nothing to us. They give us water, they toss us food, but not enough for everyone. Who are they? What are they doing?"

Oh, great. What did I tell her? That they're monsters who were going to sacrifice them to open a gate to a being so powerful it did not care … "Can you translate? I know what I've seen before, I know what I think they're up to, but I think we need to get the word out to all of your people. Can we do that?"

"I will try. I will try to get them to listen to you."

She moved off leaving me to sit on the sand and try to get my wits back into order. What did I know? That the things smelled like fish left too long in the sun, and not in a good way? Fish jerky they were not. That this structure of stones did not belong here, nor did the swamp. That the Germans and Allies would be happy to dispose of the cultists, if they had their weapons; which they did not. Damn, we could use a sorcerer. Or a god.

It occurred to me that the oasis at Ahm Shere was dedicated to the god Anubis. If what O'Connell had told me was true, then something had given form to the Scorpion King and to the legions of Anubis. Gods tend to be jealous things, especially when something else is horning in on their turf. Damn, Bey was in the other stockade. Oh hell. Ok, then maybe something else would come along. Unfortunately, my ace in the hole was not inclined to answer at the moment. We'd had a falling out.

The lady returned followed by the women, all of them, including fourteen goats and two dogs. No wonder the enclosure stank. I'd get used to it. Goat was better than rotting fish … I think.

I explained, Nasira translated, the women became more inclined to lament loudly than they had been before they knew what was likely coming. I played down the issue of rescue. There was no way to figure out what Troy was thinking. He could decide to just wash his hands of the whole thing, except Moffitt was in here along with Pvt. Pettigrew. Troy was not the man to abandon his people if he could find a way to rescue them. Go Sgt. Troy!

A small, slender, wrapped up sort of figure stepped forward. Covered from head to toe in what looked like a white bur-qua, she slid across the sand until she stood before me, then knelt and touched her head to the sand. Some of the others drew away from her as she passed them and there was much whispering behind hands going on. I looked to Nasira for some sort of indication as to what the … heck was happening. Nasira was backing away, not forthcoming at all.

"I also speak English," the woman told me. "I suspect I am the reason these are gathered here. I am a curse upon my people."  
Huh? Excuse me? Funny, you don't look like a curse. Well, I couldn't tell that yet, because I couldn't see anything but bur-qua "Short explanation, please? Somehow, you're in the wrong place to be related to Deep Ones …"

The others turned their backs suddenly, not moving any farther away, but not looking? The woman before me sat up, caught the hem of her all-encompassing walking hideaway and pulled it up to reveal a very blue eyed, white haired girl of about sixteen. She was startling looking, but hardly what I'd call a curse.

Then again, I'm not an Arab, Bedouin or other African desert dweller.


	37. Chapter 37

Alex

Ahm Shere. The last time I was here I was on a time limit. Seven days from the time the bracelet grabbed my wrist to get to the oasis and into the pyramid before the sun hit me. I was eight. That was eight years ago. Ardeth was a comfort to have near, but there is something completely wrong going on here, as we all seem to have figured out.

Dr. Yuconovich is being dragged out to be moved to the other enclusure, in theory the one with the women in it. Since they decided I am the one who needs to go for help, I tried just walking out behind the robed sorts who grabbed Dr. Yuconovich. Much to my surprise, it worked. I ducked past the gates and into the shadow along the wall as they were closing the entrance. Now all I have to do is get back across that ugly swamp, find Sgt. Troy and his driver, and bring them back to rescue the rest of the people here. How do I get myself into these things?

There were a couple of ragged robes laying in the sand. I snagged one and went shuffling toward the place we'd entered the bowl with the henge in it. Who are these people? Why do they smell like fish? How did they manage to put a swamp where the oasis of Ahm Shere used to be? Why … Yeah, too many questions.


	38. Chapter 38

Imhotep

I opened my eyes to perpetual fire and darkness as I had for all the time I was here. Frowning, I focused on a glimmer of light, like sunlight through water. The others grabbed at me as I pulled free to fight my way toward the difference in brightness, not flame but pure. Hands and feet beat at me as they beat at each other, each of us struggling against the multitude for no more than to stand free for a few seconds. I have never understood what underworld I fell into, but now I have a goal, to get to the light.

After centuries it seems that I have finally reached the glimmer and it is reflected off a shimmering surface. I cannot breathe as I strive toward my goal. More than anything I have ever wanted, I want to reach the brightness. I reach through the others who do not see, I pull myself ever upward until my hands and arms are cold and heavy with unseen slime and mud. Darkness fills my eyes, my nose and mouth, still I claw upward as though from the bottom of a watery abyss.

The mud gives way to a water that washes the muck from my face. Still I must move upward, lungs burning, choking as I must breathe and cannot because water fills my mouth and nose. I am drowning! No! I must live! I am Imhotep! I am …

A hand touches mine, warm and living, calloused from some labor. We grasp each other's wrist and the other pulls me from the mire, from the water onto land where I lay gasping, coughing, spewing up the foul water of the swamp that surrounds me. I know it is a swamp, yet I have no idea where it is.

Rolling onto my back, I see black and gray above me, clouds roiling in a mass as they do before a great storm. A face comes into focus, dark eyes and brows under some form of head covering … a hat. His firm lipped mouth is curved in the beginning of a smile and he speaks.

"Where the hell did you come from?"

Laughter rolls out of me as it has not in centuries. Where the hell indeed.


	39. Chapter 39

Hitch

We're sneaking across the swamp that we don't understand what it's doing here, to get to Sgt. Moffitt and Tully when this hand pokes up out of the water. Muddy, clawing, straining, a hand, in the middle of a swamp that doesn't belong where it is. The Sarge spots it the same time I do and neither one of us pauses to think. I grab onto Troy for balance and he snags the hand, hauling back and dragging this naked guy out of the water.  
By the time I realize he's wearing some sort of mud and gunk encrusted loincloth, he's gasping, gagging and puking up swamp water in the clump grass he lying on. Finally he rolls onto his back, opening dark eyes to stare up at Troy.

"Where the hell did you come from?" Troy asked.

The guy starts to laugh like it's the funniest thing he's heard in years. Maybe it is. When he finally catches his breath and quits laughing, he's on his feet like a cat, all sleek muscles and movement, rinsing his face in the water until we can see him as something other than a muck creature.  
"The rest will wait." He looks around, frowning, making a gesture like he's summoning something and not happy when it doesn't work. "I am Imhotep, Priest of Ra … and a great fool. Who are you?"

Man, that "great fool" sounds like it hurts to admit. Troy introduces us, tipping his hat back slightly to deep staring the guy in the face.

"Imhotep," Troy repeats. "You know anything about this?" He gestures to the swamp and the standing stones beyond.

"No. There is no way a swamp should stand here. The water is gone, dried up when O"Connell defeated the Scorpion King." He spoke as though things of legend were commonplace. I guess to him they are. He took in the stones, his face hardening. "That does not belong here. It is not of Anubis or Ra or any of the gods I served. Come." He strode forward, expecting us to follow.

Troy gave me acocked eyebrow look and we did as expected, keeping our guns at the ready and a look out for guards. We still weren't ready when a cloaked figure came barreling down the pathway and slammed into this Imhotep guy. They rebounded off each other, the hood on the smaller figure falling back to reveal a young, blond fellow staring at Imhotep like he was seeing a ghost, and not a particularly well regarded one at that.

"You!" Another gesture followed Imhotep's recognition of the younger man.

Nothing happened which elicited a cocky grin from the blond who looked around the man in front of him to the two of us. I recognized the young man who was in the car with Bey and the woman. "Sgt. Troy and Pvt. Hitchcock? I'm Alex O'Connell. I was sent to look for you. Sgt. Moffitt and Pvt. Pettigrew are in with the Germans. Both of them and Dr. Yuconovich say we need to move and move soon. She's seen these guys before and they're up to no good."

Imhotep glowered at the young man. "There is power gathering here. What do they want it for?"

"I dunno. They're … weird. They shuffle around like they can't walk well, and then they move like nothing you've seen when something's up. And they smell like rotting fish."

"This does not belong here." Imhotep took off again, stepping around Alex. We followed along wondering just what the man thought he was doing and when we should peel off and hide.


	40. Chapter 40

Cheri

Well, here was a fine how-de-do, not albino, but definitely not your usual coloring for a desert dweller. Given the reactions of the rest, the girl's life could not be easy. The Evil here was probably looking for her to sacrifice.

Great.

And here I am in the middle of it all wondering if help was on the way. I had no idea whether Alex had gotten out and to the Americans. I presumed the latter would be coming, if only to see about getting their own men out. But “when?” that was the question, wasn't it?

For just a moment, the world went wonky in a most unpleasant manner. A torrent of formless power rushed through the area, choking me as it passed and throwing my companion into convulsions as she screamed words never meant to pass through a human throat.

The others stood against the flow, the edges of their robes flipped and tossed as though by a high wind. I grabbed for Fadiyah, holding her against the spasms of her muscles. Soothing words in a dozen languages passed my lips.

Her eyes opened abruptly, staring at me, searching my face, the iris blacking out the blue entirely. She responded to whatever I'd said last. 

Chinese?

The sounds rushed out of her almost too fast to follow. The one word not in Chinese: Imhotep.

Great. We either should fear or needed a potentially undead sorcerer. I knew this was a bad idea from the beginning.


	41. Chapter 41

Imhotep

Ahm Shere. Again. The scene of my most shameful defeat, the place where my beloved abandoned me and ran to her own untimely demise in the body of the psychotic Meela. The scene played in my mind a thousand times and more while I endured the hell I had entered willingly. I questioned whether it was Anck-su-namum or the modern woman who turned away from me, letting me despair. Perhaps it did not make a difference.

The place reeked of evil as it had not when we sought the Scorpion King. Now, there was an overwhelming feel of power, but not even that of the then eternally trapped Mathayus with the warriors of Anubis at his call had given off the stench that this did. Those creatures did the bidding of their master. I had no understanding of these creatures and I was still minus my magic. 

A part of me took joy in the destructive power I could sense, yet it was not something I could touch, could wield. Anubis stripped me of my magic for the battle with the Scorpion King to see which of us was stronger. As I strode toward the camp, I understood that there was a flaw in my need to conquer the world, that had I not been cursed with the Hom Dei, I would not have sought such power, for what I wanted most …

I stopped moving. What I had wanted most belonged to Pharaoh, a man of strengths who wielded the power of a mortal over other mortals. What I wanted was not his wife or his daughter, but his mistress, his concubine, a woman not of noble birth, but of beauty and strength. Instead, I had death, destruction and eternal striving for rulership because of those around me, because I thought it would please my beloved.

Scales fell from my sight, letting me see the path I had chosen and where it led both myself and those around me. I betrayed my Pharaoh for a woman I could not keep with me, could not resurrect and in the end, could not cause to love me enough to help me as Ahm Shere fell. I was a fool, as betrayed by her reincarnation as Ramses was by her first life. Still, under an ominous sky, there was a great wrong about to be perpetrated. Perhaps I could not rule, but that did not mean that I wished for the destruction of the world I once desired to conquer.

The boy stood at my side staring at me, fear and anger warring within him. Where was his father?  
Where was Evelyn O'Connell? 

“Why are you here?” I heard myself asking him.

“I got kidnapped. Again. The Germans thought there was something here that their leader wanted, some artifact. We were captured by ...” he paused, frowning as he gazed at the edifice before us before turning his attention back to me. “I don't think they're human. They're not mummies, either. Dr. Yuconovich and Ardeth Bay are in there, along with the two men who work with them.” He nodded to the others with us. “And there are a bunch of Germans and Arab women and children. I don't think any of them are gonna survive what's coming. Can you help?”


	42. Chapter 42

Alex

Imhotep stared at me, his face unreadable, his eyes fixed on mine for along moment before he looked away.

“I do not know. I have no magic. Anubis stripped it from me and it has not returned. What is it you want?”

What did I want? I wanted the things dealt with, my friend freed, the rest of them freed and the stupid monument knocked down so it ceased to exist. “They're ancient. You know about things, is there anything you've known about this?” I gestured to the not quite ruins.

He shook his head, then looked back at the stones, a strange mixture of doubt and worry crossed his face. The Creature, as my protector called him, was worried. That could not be a good sign. But then, he was also as mortal as I am. He met my gaze again. “There were … ancient rumors, myths. We discounted them, yet there is a chance that some truth lay in the traditions.”

That was something. “Traditions? Pre-dating Ra? Before the pantheon?” I got a slow nod of acknowledgement. “That?”

We both looked toward the standing stones. Monolithic construction mirrored in henges across the world, predating all of them? Influencing them? Or adopted by strange beings we faced now. 

“We need a plan,” Troy added his input. “And soon.” He was eyeing the storm above. 

Oh hell, it was a storm, the circling clouds gathering together and beginning to send points down toward the earth. It looked like we might not have time to make a plan. Still, going in like Dad, guns blazing, didn’t seem like the right thing to do either. We settled for stealth. With the right people, stealth in a swamp works.


	43. Chapter 43

Troy

The kid had an earnest talk with the guy from the swamp while Hitch and I kept watch, crouching among the rotting vegetation. It didn’t take long actually for them to figure out we needed to work together and get into the camp to rescue people. I’m not one to get spooked by much, but the strange swamp, the clouds and that creepy set of ruins that didn’t belong here were getting on my nerves. I understand patience, but we needed to move.

Hitch was tense as well. Stealth. For now, getting into the camp while avoiding the natives and seeing what we could do to free the captives was the objective. I didn’t care for the way the clouds were acting, funnels forming and being sucked back up. This wasn’t like the twisters at home, this was something else and I had a bad feeling that if and when the clouds touched down we were going to need all the firepower we could get.

That included the guy Alex was talking to. Imhotep. Was he really the guy we’d been told the tale about? Or just some lunatic who wandered in out of the desert? I didn’t know. Right now, I didn’t care. He and the kid were tools to get into the camp, although I’d prefer not to lose either of them doing so. The kid was my priority of the two. I suspected Imhotep could take care of himself.


	44. Chapter 44

Moffitt

The temperature dropped steadily as the clouds overhead darkened. Tully regarded them with a frown.

“Twister.” My face must have revealed I had no idea what he was talking about. He gestured to the spikes of cloud forming above us. “Tornado formation. If one of those things touches down, it’s gonna create havoc.”

“I have heard of these storms,” Deitrich added. “Very destructive, although a monumental place like this should weather it easily. Still, it is not weather that one expects here. Could it be connected to what these people are doing?”

The Hauptman was not going to admit that he believed anything Cheri had told us. I wasn’t certain I wanted to admit I believed in any of it, but the entire situation was getting under my skin. Alex had been gone more than an hour at this point. While I have the utmost faith in my fellow patrol members, I also believed we should be working on some plan of our own. The German agreed, more willing this time I think because we all sensed that there was something coming, that whatever these natives or cultists were planning was very close to fruition and we were the only ones in a position to stop them.

“Agreed. Let us see if we can disrupt their plans.”

Ardeth moved to join us at that point. He had been keeping watch on the gate, making note of the movements outside. Deitrich regarded him with disdain which the swarthy man ignored. “It is beginning, whatever they are to do. Several are heading toward the other confinement area, where they took Dr. Yuconovich. We are not necessary to their plans. If we are to move, we must do it soon. They have begun chanting.”

What? I moved to the gate and listened. I could hear no words but there was a peculiar sibilant sound. 

Bey joined me and nodded. “I have not heard it before, but that is a chant in their own tongue. The rhythm repeats.”

As he spoke, I heard the voices start again, the same sounds, the same inflections. He was right. We needed to hurry. Surveying the gate into our prison I realized it was fairly flimsy. If our captors were not watching, we could easily break out. But where were the weapons they had seized from us? I couldn’t remember whether they had left them with the vehicles or brought them to the encampment. We would definitely need weapons.


	45. Chapter 45

Ardeth

After guarding the Creature for so long and then having done battle with him and his minions, I had developed an ability to sense the rise of the use of magic. I could feel the drawing in here. With each repetition of the chant, some form of supernatural power flowed into the area to be harnessed by our captors, or one of them. I could feel the tension skimming along my skin, causing the hair on my arms and the back of my neck to rise.

A handful of the … I hesitate to call them men … shambled toward the other enclosure, opening the gate and moving inside. Women screamed, the dogs with them howling piteously until they emerged again pulling several struggling figures with them. I recognized the woman who had been with us, Dr. Yuconovich. Another figure, smaller, with streaming hair like pale moonlight, pulled away, struck at them, screaming invective in a dialect I barely understood. She stopped so abruptly that the one leading her stumbled and nearly fell. 

Her eyes were blue, set in a face of timeless beauty. She stared at me. Stark terror faded to … recognition. “I have waited! I have been true!” she called just as the monster beneath the robe grabbed her up, throwing her over his shoulder and continued away. 

The American woman looked as confused as I felt, then burst into action as her captor seemed to lose track of his hold on her. She broke away and ran to the gate where we stood, Sgt. Moffitt and I. With a quick jerk, she removed the retaining bar that kept us inside. The gate opened as the thing reached a long tentacle out and grabbed her wrist again, yanking her back to him with inhuman strength. The hood fell away from its head revealing a hideous, deformed thing with little relation to human. 

Monsters. I can fight monsters.


	46. Chapter 46

Cheri

I wonder if I felt as confused as Ardeth looked when she called out to him. There is no doubt that it was to him she spoke, not a doubt in my mind. Nor do I think there was one in his either.  
Tentacles. Why do I always get tentacles?

All right, that is not exactly correct. A lot of the people I face are perfectly normal physically and do not have tentacles for their arms or legs or anywhere else on their bodies. But every once in a while … such as now … I run into people with tentacles. And ugly. You would think that breeding with humanity would improve the looks of something fishy, but no. Apparently the Deep One genes override everything else they breed with.

Euw.

Ugly and smelling more like rotting fish in the sun than ever, my captor dragged me along in the wake of the one now carrying Fadiyah. Interesting that they had not secured the enclosure behind them. The rest of the women and children with their goats and dogs were apparently of no interest to them. I hoped they would make their escape, although there was a niggling doubt that if these people succeeded in what they were doing there would be no place far enough away to be safe.

They lurched their way through the standing stones to the one set with a lintel above it making it a doorway of sorts. That thought disturbs me. That's a really big door with a number of posts driven into the dirt in front of it and an altar. Chacmool and henge, not a normal combination by any means.

The figure supporting the bowl was not human. In fact, it looked a lot like something out of some early twentieth century pulp or weird fiction I'd read. Following the lines of the carving with my eyes began to make me feel queasy. I pulled my gaze away and looked to where the guard, for want of a better word, on Fadiyah was dragging her toward the post nearest the gateway. Correction, the two posts. With a gesture the ropes hanging from the stone pillars rose and looped around her wrists, pulling her arms out until she stood centered before the doorway.

I was liking this less and less, which was difficult considering how much I hated the situation to begin with. Secondary ropes snaked out to loop around her ankles, pulling her legs apart until she could barely support her weight, light as it was. She struggled against the bindings to no avail.

A more human looking figure stepped out of the shadows into the dim light between the gate and the girl. With one swift swipe of his curved knife, he parted all the layers of her clothing to lay her bare from neck to toes. A heavily robed assistant came forward, taking the knife and handing him a bowl. Dipping the long, elegant fingers of his right hand into the fluid, he used them to paint figures on her flesh.  
"The pure flesh of the Mother will bring the Father to us," he intoned.

English? No, my ears were hearing other syllables that my brain was translating into my native language. I hate magic. I was about to hate it more as my guard dragged me toward the chacmool. Wonderful, I get to be the sacrifice. I do hope they're not expecting a virgin sacrifice. It was way too late in my life to get that.

Realizing that once I was secured the entire thing could go off without a hitch, I put more effort into resisting, pulling loose from the curve of muscle holding me. I left some skin on the suckers, but managed to get away, dodging around the sacrificial article and dashing forward to see if I could cut the girl loose. Where the hell were the men I'd released?

Gunfire.

Whoo hoo! The cavalry had arrived.

I grabbed a dagger from another of the cultists as I ran and had succeeded in severing one of the very tough ropes when there was an unholy pain in my back that pierced through me. Time stopped as I looked down. Oh hell. Squiggly dagger. It had missed my heart, which was good. However it was hampering my ability to turn and deal with the Evil High Priest who had skewered me.

As my blood dripped from the weapon, I could hear him mouthing the phrases of Opening the Gate, could hear him call for the Black Pharaoh. Then he jerked hard and went silent, falling away and leaving the damned dagger in me. Not good.


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Tully

As we made our break, I saw the Sarge and Hitch practically running into the compound behind a tall, powerfully built guy and the blonde kid we sent to find the Sarge. The guy in front was mostly naked but walked like he owned the place. I caught our Brit by the arm and pointed to our guys. We broke away from the body of the men who were picking up anything they could use as a weapon and going after the cloaked guys with a vengeance. 

The guys with tentacles fought hard, but they didn't have the numbers to hold out long. That's what I was thinking until the Germans started falling into their clutches. Between daggers and tentacles, they were having a hard time. 

We got to Troy and he and Hitch handed us guns. That would even the odds some. The boy stopped to acknowledge us with a nod, but his head swiveled to watch the naked guy as he just walked through the entire melee without so much as noticing it, as far as I could tell. 

“I better stay with him,” the kid said and took off at a run, his ragged robe flapping around and behind him.

“What's eatin' him?” I asked as I checked the pistol.

“Knows the muddy guy. Imhotep,” Hitch brought us up to speed. “Some big wig who used to have magic, still has a lot of attitude.”

We just looked at him for a moment before turning to the Sarge to see what the plan was. 

“Follow Imhotep. According to Alex he can be trouble even without magic.” He hesitated over the word for a moment. None of us were comfortable with acknowledging that there might be that lurking about as well. “Let's help the Jerries clean this mess up.” The Sarge gave a worried look at the swirling clouds overhead and led us into battle. The guns certainly evened the odds.


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

Deitrich

I had never been so grateful to a woman as I was when Dr. Yuconovich released us from the cage. I agreed with St. Moffitt and his companion that we could have knocked the gate down, but this was easier and we were ready for a fight. If we could get weapons, we would be victorious and could shut down whatever this abominable cult was.

The Medjai flashed past me, his arm snaking out to remove a dagger and a sword from one of the cultists as he ran past it. His movements were sure and deadly as he lopped off anything reaching for him in the pursuit of the woman being carried toward the only complete portion of the megalithic henge structure. That Dr. Yuconovich was being hauled bodily toward the same place may not have spurred him on the same way, but in the end, his arrival would certainly disrupt whatever occult ceremony they were planning.

The chant was rising, even as our battle became more difficult. The creatures we faced were not human nor did they fight like humans, their movements alien and disjointed. Two of my men went down, struggling to keep the muscular tentacles from crushing their necks. 

Gunfire. A bullet whipped past me to explode through the head of one of the monsters. It released my soldier seconds before he quit breathing. Looking around, I saw Troy and his men advancing, taking calculated shots. They were killing the monsters, but there was a chance they'd run out of bullets before we ran out of opposition. 

Still, I felt a mad grin curve my lips in answer to his nod. I will not admit this to anyone else, but it felt good to have Troy and his Rats on my side in this conflict.


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49

Alex

Imhotep strode forward like he owned the place. It was amazing. None of the people paid any attention to him as the wind whipped around us, flicking dried mud off his body until he no longer looked like some strange swamp being. 

My mouth dropped open as we approached the henge. Damn. They'd tied this girl to a couple of posts right in front of one of the gates. I could tell there was something going on because there was darkness, inky blackness in the rectangle of the gate itself. The girl was struggling against the ropes that held her, her robes whipping around her body as one of the robed things stood in front of her. I couldn't tell what he was doing, but she did not appear to enjoy it at all. 

I noticed Cheri was also struggling with one of the creatures, his tentacle showing as he looped it around her waist and pulled her back to him. He had one of those curvy daggers in his other hand. I yelled as he drove it through her back until the point burst out of her chest, blood soaking into her shirt in a widening stain. 

Imhotep flung a hand toward the thing and its head exploded. We both stopped at that, Imhotep staring at his hand, a dawning light of inhuman glee on his face while I was wondering just how he'd retrieved his magic. Maybe I should have figured on it as we approached something that seemed wholly magical.

Lightning ripped out of the sky to strike the Creature, as my uncle called him. Thunder pealed so loud I clapped my hands over my ears and dropped to my knees the sound hurt so much. When I looked again, Imhotep stood in a patch of burned sand, glass lay smoking around his feet. He laughed, tilting his face up toward the storm as though daring it to try again. 

He walked forward again. I was out of my league and knew it so I darted over to where Cheri had gone to her knees.

“Pull it out!” she ordered through gritted teeth.

I stared at the hilt of the dagger for a moment, then grabbed it with both hands and pulled it out as straight as I could. A scream ripped from her and then she was on hands and knees, groans escaping her until she coughed up about two tablespoons of blood, panted for a moment and then rocked back to squat on the sand. She licked her lips like she was hungry and refrained from looking around at me.

“Thanks. I don't suppose you have a chocolate bar on you,” she half asked.

My hands dove for my pockets. Lint. I shook my head. “Sorry. No.” I wanted to reach out and touch where the wound in her back had been, but thought better of it. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” she kinda growled at me. “Let's move.” She didn't turn to look at me before we were moving, essentially following Imhotep's path into the henge.

Ahead of us, the Egyptian had stopped and was staring at his surroundings. “Stop!” he bellowed. “As High Priest of the God Ra, I forbid this!”


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 50

Cheri

I felt my jaw drop. The High Priest of Ra had just confronted a priest of the Old Ones and forbidden them to continue.

Fighting dropped off in the background as both cultists and the ex-prisoners turned to stare at what was happening in the henge. Even the priest in front of the white haired girl seemed to halt in what he was doing to stare at the High Priest. What the hell?

The black rectangle behind the cultist rippled.

Oh, fuck.

As we watched the surface rippled again and a form began to take shape. Who were they summoning? I listened for sounds from the cultists. Silence. Even the wind was quiet. A man stepped through the gate, shedding the liquid darkness yet becoming no more pale. Oh crap!

“Don't look at him!” I screamed and whirled to catch the boy behind me and turn him away from the thing that looked like a man. Madness lay that way. Nyarlthotep, the Black Pharoah, stood on the sand of what was once the Oasis of Ahm Shere. I shoved the boy toward the others, away from the insanity. I could see the others turning away, looking down and not toward the gate. Good.

Only Ardeth Bey and the High Priest stood behind me, probably still looking toward the Black Pharoah. Slowly, I turned back to the scene. The girl hung limp in her bonds. The priest who had summoned the Black Pharoah sank to his knees, holding out the cup he had used to mark her skin with arcane symbols. 

“Neh!” Unarmed the self identified High Priest of Ra walked forward. 

Imhotep, I finally put two and two together and figured out who he was. But even with the power of the Hom Dei curse, he wasn't strong enough to tangle with an actual … he walked past the girl and back handed the figure before him, sending it stumbling back through the portal. Then he turned to the other high priest, staring into the eyes beneath the hood. The other flinched and prostrated itself before Imhotep. 

“You do not belong here,” the latter announced in fluent Egyptian. 

The surface in the gate started to flutter as Ardeth Bey cut the girl down, holding her in his arms and closing her robes. He yelled something at Imhotep I did not catch. My eyes were on the gate while my fingers scrabbled in my pockets for something, anything to turn into a weapon. The gate was still open.


	51. Chapter 51

Troy

We rounded up the women and animals and set the Germans to guard them on the way out through the swamp. All their weapons were back at the river with their jeeps. We passed out the few we could spare and then Dietrich got stubborn on us.

“You’ll need more than the four of you, the boy and the woman.”

It was a reasonable estimate, but time was growing short. Besides, we had the Bey guy and the guy we found in the swamp. I was keeping one eye on the two of them as Hitch and Tully tried to get the rest of the situation under control. 

“We’ve got Bey and Imhotep,” I told him, nodding toward where the Arab and the other guy were confronting the guy in the robes. I was having a hard time with the doorway behind where the girl was tied up. It looked like there was a kind of liquid surface and then this completely shiny black guy in what looked like ancient Egyptian clothes stepped out of the stuff.

Dietrich looked around at the same time. I watched his jaw drop in surprise. Given how well he’d taken everything else we’d seen, that said a lot about what was happening, even if I didn’t understand it. We brought guns to bear on the lot of them when the Imhotep guy stepped forward, yelled something in the face of the shiny black guy and back handed him hard.

I’ve been hit like that. It didn’t make me stumble backwards. Bey had the girl a moment later, carrying her in his arm like she was a small child, swinging his sword as he moved back through the creepy robed people. I caught sight of Cheri and the boy then. Her hands dove into her pockets, searching for something. It wasn’t over by a long shot.

I turned back to Dietrich. “You’re not armed. These guys don’t seem to go in for more than physical strength.” I shot a look at the storm overhead. “That’s gonna hit here and hit soon, one way or another. See if you can get them out of here.”

Bey was struggling to get out of the crowd of crazies now. Moffitt and Hitch headed into the fight. No sense in losing the prize now that we’d rescued it. I could feel the tension in the German, but he finally saw the wisdom of what I said and started getting his crew under control as Tully and I joined the others, firing carefully to keep from hitting anyone on our side. I almost laughed. Who knew whose side Cheri and Imhotep were on?

Dietrich

I wanted to argue with Sgt. Troy. This was our fight as well as theirs, but he was right. We were unarmed and none of my men were trained to do more than a bare modicum of hand to hand combat. We could get the Arab women and their animals out of the place if we were careful, and if they would come with us. Two of my men were already speaking to the women. They were amenable to getting out of there. Only one looked to where the tall man held the pale haired girl, worry showing in her stance. 

“He won’t let them take her back,” I assured her, completely certain of my words. There was something in the way he held the girl that told me she was as safe as any of us could be while in his grasp.   
She searched my face for the truth of my words and accepted what I said, turning to get her people to go with us back through the swamp. I prayed we got out. I had no idea what we would do with the Arab women then. While we frequently work with the Arabs as our allies, many times they turned out to be less than trustworthy. After this experience, I did not wish to merely turn them loose or over to any of those with whom I had dealings. Slavery is still a flourishing business in this part of the world.

I heard gunfire behind us, individual shots and turned back to see Troy and his men making headway through the robed … cultists. My eyes were drawn to the doorway, the shimmering black surface pulled me toward it, toward the robed man now kneeling at the bare feet of the one they called Imhotep. I turned back, my body obeying some command I had not given it. The sand shifted under my feet and the sounds all around me receded until all I could see and hear were the words from the robed figure and the Egyptian. 

A woman’s voice called out words I did not understand yet understood completely. Destroy the gate. The gate. I focused on the now swirling darkness. Memories surfaced of another time, another place; of a sacrifice being offered to ancient darkness, a darkness my leader would joyously embrace, never understanding that it would not support us but destroy us.

My foot hit something in the sand. Something golden glimmered there and I stooped to pick it up. A sword. The hilt of a sword to be exact. I touched it, folded my hand around it. Seldom had a weapon felt so right, fit so well to my hand. As I straightened, I knew it was what was needed, not to fight the broken, destroyed things Troy fought, but to stop what was coming. 

Still, to get there, I had to go through the milling mass of the fight. It could hardly hurt to take some of them out on my way to my true target.


	52. Chapter 52

Alex

Cheri was tense. I watched the gate. I watched Imhotep and the Priest. I wondered what she was searching her pockets for and then both of us turned to look at the fight around Ardeth. He had been joined by the Americans while the Germans seemed to be gathering up the women and working their way towards the swamp. 

The tall man I recognized as Hauptman Dietrich seemed to be heading toward his men and the swamp when he turned back. He stopped, reached for something at his feet and then headed toward the fight. Something in his hand glinted strangely, and I know strange. As he strode into the mass of fighting bodies, his touch seemed to stop the cultists as though he’d frozen them or something.   
“Oh, hell.” The remark was Cheri, it was calm and quiet, but I knew it wasn’t good.

“What’s happening?” I asked her.

“He’s got a relic of some kind. It’s in his hand, but he’s moving like he’s got something … a weapon? A sword? Can you see anything?” She didn’t take her eyes off the German as she asked me.

I looked again. Nothing. I could see he held something, but there wasn’t a blade or anything else I could see extending from it. That’s when the first guy he’d frozen collapsed into a pile on the ground. Not fell down. Not collapsed into a body but went straight down and there didn’t seem to be anything but the robe left. 

As we stared, the one’s he’d touched did the same thing, one after another. It cut down the number of people the Americans were fighting, but it was scary. The German hadn’t shown any interest in anything supernatural, even when his man went down under gunfire and turned into goo. I wished my mom and dad were there. They’re good at taking things apart. 

He was through the fight and still walking with a purpose. He stopped for a moment as he came even with the two of us, his gaze sweeping over me to stop on Cheri. He smiled at her. She smiled back. There was a lot of promise in those two smiles. I was almost embarrassed. If I wasn’t used to the way my parents act around each other, I would have been.

“I will return for you,” he said in Egyptian. 

Cheri and I exchanged ‘what the hell’ looks. 

“Stay here,” she told me. “I’m going to see if I can help.”

I caught her arm as she started to move. “Wait. What can you do that he can’t? That Imhotep can’t?”

The too green eyes met mine for a long moment. “I can close the gate if they can’t.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, but my hand dropped away. There was blood on her shirt from where the dagger had exited from her chest. But not a sign of the wound it had created. Why do get to meet all these strange people? Oh, right. I’m the son of Rick and Evie O’Connell. It’s all in a day’s work for us.

So why did I feel so helpless?

Moffitt

We fought the inhuman denizens of the area. Watching tentacles drop to the sand as Bey fought with his sword made the entire fight more surreal than it was just with the henge and the storm overhead … and the swamp where there shouldn’t be one. 

We’d dropped to hand to hand combat when we ran out of ammunition. I could have sworn there weren’t that many of the things in robes when we were captured. Their numbers seemed to increase. In spite of the damage we were doing.

I spotted Deitrich suddenly as he swept past me, the opposition freezing in place as he passed. Literally. I had no time to do more than note that he was headed toward the henge and the confrontation there.

Imhotep

How dare this monster dress like pharaoh?

I struck the apparition, sending it back through the gate to someplace so wrong it exceeded even my own evil. Vile it felt against my skin. I sent it back to where it belonged and then the priest who had worshipped the dark thing sank to its knees before me babbling in some broken language.

The Medjai stole the sacrifice from them and hurried away to face his own battle. Time enough for him later. Now I faced abomination such as I had never felt. The magic returned to me, slamming through my body, the gift of life itself coursing through me.

I had the power to take the world. 

With a gesture I cleaned the dried muck of the swamp from my skin and dressed as befitted my station. My station. I was High Priest of Ra! What had I to do with such as these?

I stemmed the flood of memories, of horrors, of betrayal and looked down into the red inhuman eyes of the thing before me. It would die. Now. Yet it had its own magic, strong and corrupt, tied to the peculiar swirling mass within the huge stone gate. I felt other influences. The Medjai, of course and the woman he carried, both were touched with magic, but not strong enough to worry me. 

Another woman. A man. Suddenly one of the men behind me flared with power, with a weapon. I felt it cut through the things behind me, crushing them, destroying them. Even as others came out of the water to replace the fallen, he did not kill the things, he caused them to cease to be. 

I chanced a look behind me. A warrior, tall and strong, armed with a sword that glowed with a golden light. Not beholden to Anubis but to Ra himself. A chosen guardian he came on, nothing stopping him. The sword would close the gate.

The fool before me realized the danger too late to do more than start a protective chant, or perhaps an offensive spell. I do not know, nor did I care. The warrior moved past us, his weapon shearing the head from the priest’s shoulders before he plunged his weapon into the blackness that now stretched forward as the thing that was not Pharoah strove to breach the gate again. The blade planted full in the forehead of the creature. 

Sound. Mind numbing, terrifying sound overwhelmed us. The warrior clapped his hands to his ears, blood oozing between his fingers. He screamed once and dropped to the sand unconscious, more blood staining the skin around his eyes, nose and mouth. The woman I’d sensed dove past me to grab the warrior’s booted ankles and start to drag him away from the shivering gate. 

The black seemed to shiver and shrink in on itself. The storm overhead broke, rain pouring down on all there, a mighty deluge that had not been seen in the desert for many years. The minions of the priest broke from their fight and fled to the swamp, shedding cloaks and robes as they leaped into the waters that now frothed as though whipped by wind unfelt by the rest of us.

“We need to get out of here! Now!” the woman yelled at me. 

Her eyes were green, set in a pale face surrounded by black hair. She looked nothing like my beloved, the one who betrayed me into the underworld. 

“Why should I help?”

“Because you’re really not a monster,” she said quietly.

The earth began to shake and tremble, knocking the humans off their feet. Much as the oasis had been swallowed up before, this place was working on becoming nothing. It took a great deal of power and left me exhausted, but I moved every living being within the henge and the encampment to the other side of the swamp where I dropped to the sand and into oblivion for a while.


	53. Aftermath

Aftermath

Hitch

Frostbite. 

Dietrich’s hand is frozen solid, the tips of his fingers turning black. Frostbite in the desert. It’s a good thing he’s unconscious or he’d be raising hell, I think.

There isn’t much we can do but bring his hand back to normal and probably just amputate it. Gangrene is a terrible infection and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. I thought we’d just go ahead and take it off before he comes to, but Cheri said no. I don’t get why she said no. I think we should just capture him and take him back with us to HQ. It couldn’t be good for him to report this to his superiors. I’m worrying about the Kraut who spends so much of his time trying to capture or kill us. Feels weird. But we owe him. His action had saved us, saved all of us from his own men to us to the Arab women and the kid.

The other guy, this Imhotep that Bey and Cheri talked about, burns with fever. Bey thought it was a good idea to let him go. Cheri said no. So we lugged the unconscious guy to the river which is quite shallow where we are and settled him so that he was submerged except for his head.

Bey has his own problems, namely a pretty little blonde Arab girl who is following him around like a puppy. 

Cheri

Imhotep, against everything I’ve heard about him, sacrificed himself to save us. He’s burning with fever. Bey would let him die. Probably absolutely right about it. After three thousand years the guy should get his reward/punishment … he should get to rest before he recycles if that’s what’s in store for him. Instead, he’s delirious and babbles about betrayal, pleading with his beloved and becoming incomprehensible. Maybe if he wakes up I can tell him that he’s probably wrong about her betraying him.

Ardeth has a problem. The girl and the women of her tribe. They have nowhere to go. He’s not dealing with her words and doesn’t look like he’s going to without some prompting. I’m probably going to do the prompting. Couldn’t hurt. I have to admit, I’m curious about the ‘I waited’ comment.

And I’m still here. The entire henge, camp, swamp folded in on itself and vanished with an almighty whopping popping noise that should have been heard for miles. The storm vanished. All’s right with the world and I am still here in the 1940s. This sucks. Not to mention that everything thing I’ve ever read in speculative fiction indicates that two of a person in the same part of a timeline is apt to make life difficult, if not impossible. I need a way home.

Pvt. Hitchcock said Dietrich has frostbite. I may be able to help with that. Gangrene is deadly.

Ardeth

It is unseemly for a woman to follow a man around. I have decided that the tribes of the Medjai can provide homes for the women made victim by the unholy ones. There are not that many and we are a generous people, for the most part. Still, she follows me with her eyes when she is not actually walking in my shadow.

I do not understand her persistence. 

Fadiyah  
How do I tell him? How do I tell this magnificent warrior that I am his, that I am destined, that I must stay with him even if only as his slave? I have his name. He is Ardeth Bey, he is leader of the tribes of the Medjai, he is the one who walks my dreams and has done so forever.

What do I do? My people still shun me. I do not blame them. The oddly dressed one, the woman with black hair and green eyes, is busy with the undying one. I do not understand why she is concerned. He will return. He is only reacting to the return of his powers. It will not kill him.

I must speak to the warrior, but it is not right that I approach him, so I follow him hoping he will ask me what I am doing. Then I may answer him. Then I may tell him that I am his, that I will serve him faithfully, that I will serve his wife, his mother, his children, all of his family will I serve for the rest of my life. This is my destiny, to belong to him. 

Troy

This is a fix we’re in. We had to carry Dietrich and Imhotep back to the vehicles. Lucky the jeeps were where we left them. If anyone had suggested I’d be worried about the German, I’d have told them to take a hike. But I am. His hand’s frozen stiff. Hitch and Moffitt agree that it needs to come back to normal temperature slowly, which isn’t happening in this heat. Moffitt took me aside and said the best thing to do is to amputate now, but we haven’t got the supplies to keep him alive long if we do, so the best thing is to get him moving and back to our HQ or his own for treatment. 

Damn.

After all the weirdness, the biggest reaction I have is that I’ll miss playing cat and rat with the guy. The Jerries are getting antsy already. We’ll have to separate soon or we’ll be back to fighting with two sick guys to weigh us down.

Alex

It feels weird. I’m watching everyone and they all seem to have forgotten I’m here. Cheri’s keeping an eye on Imhotep, but she’s also concerned about Captain Dietrich. Hauptman. Ardeth’s disturbed by the girl following him around. I don’t get that. Medjai women have more freedom than a lot of other women out here. They speak their minds. They even get to speak in council when they have an issue that needs resolving. I think Fadiyah wants to say something to him, but something is holding her back. I’d ask Cheri, but she’s busy.

So far the supernatural factor has kept the Germans and the Americans from going after each other. But that can’t last long. Ardeth and I need to get things together so we can get back to the camp.   
I noticed Cheri leaving one of the Arab women to keep an eye on Imhotep. I don’t want to stop keeping an eye on him, but I’m curious what she’s up to. 

Dietrich

I awaken and am aware that there is something wrong. My hand is unresponsive, will not move. In the shadows of the tent the flesh looks odd, almost translucent. Frozen, my men tell me. I touch the fingers and it is indeed cold, so cold it burns the pads of my other hand. But it doesn’t hurt. I would think that there would be more pain, perhaps where the frozen flesh meets warm. That is also strange, there is a line of demarcation between frozen and normal, as though a ring had been set around my arm and the cold goes no further. 

The men set up a tent and a cot so I could be comfortable. Thoughtful. They’re still too dazed from what happened to make trouble with the Desert Rats or with the Arabs. Mid-forearm to fingertip, nothing, no feeling at all. This will end my career in the Army. I know it. My men know it. Troy and his men know it. I’m not certain how I feel about this. 

Dr. Yuconovich entered the tent while I was considering my alternatives to returning home. Explaining how my arm became frozen is not likely to go over well, especially when I did not recover either the relic I was sent for, or the one I briefly possessed that forced me to close the gate on … I do not know what it closed on, nor, thinking about it, do I wish to know. That way lies a madness even the leaders of my country do not have. 

“Hauptmann Dietrich,” Cheri addresses me in German, breaking my thoughts. I think I am relieved until her question penetrates my mind. “How badly do you want that arm to heal?”

Her accent is disturbingly faultless. I realize I have never heard her speak my language before. Given what has happened and what I have seen over the last few days, I am instantly wary. “What do you have in mind, fraulein?”

“Nothing too detrimental. Just a little home grown magic,” her manner changes, more friendly than it was.

“At what price?”

That gets a smile and a nod, as though she was expecting my question, or hoping for it. “It will hurt,” she says simply.

Nice, matter of fact answer that. Pain can be very subjective. Do I want to heal? Do I want back into this war? Yes, I do. I do not want this to defeat me. “I can live with pain.”

“Oh, it’s not permanent,” she assured me brightly. “Just very much there during the process.” She showed me the hypodermic in her hand. “Very special potion brewed just for me at some point. I didn’t need it. I think it will work on you quite well.”

I wasn’t expecting her to shove the needle directly into my heart. For a moment, I died. Then the agony started. I heard a voice outside. Someone kept my men out while I gripped her arm so hard I could feel the bones bending under my hold. I bellowed in my pain and then it was gone.

She leaned down and planted a very gentle kiss on my lips before letting go and leaving the tent. I fell asleep. My men tell me it was a miracle. I know better.

Imhotep

I awakened to a starlit sky so deep and bright it took my breath as nothing has in long ages.

“Hello.”

I looked around to the pale face of the woman who is not my beloved. I see strength, as I saw in Evelyn O’Connell, the reincarnation of Nefertiri, daughter of Pharaoh and opposition of my beloved, Anck-Su-Namum. Turning over, I pulled myself out of the river, the Blue Nile ran shallow here. With a gesture, I clothed myself and stood staring into her eyes.

“Who are you?”

“Name’s Cheri Yuconovich. I have a Doctorate in Anthropology, archaeology mostly and I’m hoping you hold the answer to solving a problem I have.”

“Problem?” She wanted to rule the world, no doubt, using me to get her to her throne. “What is that problem and why should I help you?” I sneered.

“I need to get home.”

Home? “You are not forbidden to travel.”

“No, but there’s a small issue of being here twice. I’ve lived through this time period and now I’ve been dragged back to it. Somewhere in Germany, I and my companion are working against the Germans. I really can’t afford to run into me … and I don’t have a timetable of where I was and what I was doing that would allow me to just muddle through things here. You have magic.”

Yes, I have magic. What exactly did she want from me? And where was the Medjai? And O’Connell? I realized she was speaking again. “Time travel?” Was that even possible? Could I go back and …? 

“Oh, no. Don’t even consider trying to go back and fix things. History is written, not necessarily in stone, but trying to change things is like trying to step on the same piece of flowing water. Not a good idea.” She had my full attention and I sensed that she spoke what she knew of as truth. “Look, if Anck-su-namun reincarnated once, she will come again.”

“She betrayed me.”

“Did she? Or was it Meela that ran from you and sealed her own fate? Anck-su-namun died for you, took her own life as I understand it, because her faith in you was so great she would chance the afterlife forever to be with you instead of being Pharaoh’s mistress. For over three thousand years she has waited for you. Trust me, anyone who has that kind of faith in you will not betray you. She’s still waiting.”

Her words touched my heart. Did I even have a heart? I must, I had not seen Ma’at, had not been judged as I should have been. If she spoke true, then there was still a chance. I was no longer cursed, I had my life, somewhere my beloved …

“Time. I will think on it. I hunger.”

“Good, ‘cause I think dinner is just about ready.” She looked toward the camp where the women rescued were making food together. “Damn, I am gonna have to intervene in that.”

I looked to where a small figure followed the Medjai, Ardeth Bey. I felt no anger toward the man which felt odd. Perhaps taking this woman home was the answer to many questions. 

Moffitt

Troy and I discussed what to do next. We were far out of range to communicate with our headquarters and it was unlikely that the tale we could tell would be the one we did tell. Ahm Shere did not exist. The Germans found only desert and we saw no reason to do more than monitor them as they scrambled for anything they could find in the sand.

Ardeth Bey and his people would take in the women and the Germans would return to their usual haunts. I was not about to question how Dietrich survived having his hand frozen and then restored. He looked wan and pale when he joined his men for dinner, but nothing was wrong with his hand now. I had seen and touched it when we carried him back to the river. 

The man Imhotep had also recovered and was making his presence felt. Bey kept a sharp eye on him while attempting to lose his blonde shadow. I couldn’t quite figure out what was going on there. With Troy’s consent, I went to find out.

“I do not know why she is following me,” Bey admitted, sounding irritated.

“Ask her?”

His shoulders slumped at this and he nodded. “It would be easier if O’Connell was here,” he muttered and turned to seek the girl who was standing about three feet away. “Why are you following me?”

A dam burst and she told him. I could only follow a part of it, she spoke so quickly, trying to get her words out before he again turned away from her. Something about destiny and serving him, his people, his slave if nothing more. Bey looked confused at first, then concerned. He asked a couple of questions, shook his head over the answers and then nodded, more to himself than to the girl. 

“I do not entirely understand, but I know there is more to the world than what we can only see. We will talk again when you are safely at my home.” His dark eyes met hers for a moment, a smile touching his lips. “I do not have a wife. Yet.”

They talk about brides glowing. 

Tully

Wasn’t sure what to make of anything that had happened since we met the woman at Hamunaptra. Looks like the German will make it and the mostly naked guy who is spending most of his time with the woman. We struck camp and everyone went their separate ways, so to speak. We grabbed one of the trucks the Krauts had to transport the women and their animals. It was fun watching Sgt. Moffitt teach the big Arab guy to drive the truck. He learned fast.

The Germans took off, headed back north. We shepherded the Arabs part of the way back to the place they had their big camp when we finally got back in radio range. Something new had come up and we said good-bye to the Arabs. Bey seemed genuinely glad to know us, shaking hands and pledging hospitality should we meet again. He’s trying to keep his people out of the war. I can see why. If he fights that kind of nightmare a war isn’t something he needs. We wished him luck and took off toward HQ and the new assignment.

I was looking back the way we’d come when I saw a big sand storm pile up a few miles behind us, about where we’d left that Imhotep guy and the woman. I started to yell at the Sarge and then it vanished. I’m gonna be glad to get back to the war.


End file.
